


The Prodigal Daughter

by miss_eee



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-03-04 22:14:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 36,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13374144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_eee/pseuds/miss_eee
Summary: It's been almost 19 years since Betty Cooper left Riverdale without any words, but now she's found herself pulled back to the town and her old life. Things are not the same as when she left.





	1. The Arrival

It hadn’t been hard to find; her aunt’s directions were very clear. Past the welcome sign, _“Riverdale-the town with PEP”,_ turn left at the light. Past Pop’s Choc’Lit Shoppe- _what the hell is a Chocklite Shoppe?_ Turn right at the high school, continue straight through 2 stop signs, turn left onto Elm Ave, 4th house on the left. No wonder her mom had left, this town was small, and backwards. She knew for a fact her aunt hadn’t been here in 19 years, and yet her directions had gotten her exactly where she needed to go. Step 1, her aunt had called it. She had mapped out a little treasure map of sorts, giving her only a name and an address, _“You’ll find answers here, they’ll tell you where you need to go next.”_

 

She stared up at the two-story white house, white picket fence in the front yard, perfectly trimmed rose bushes. A sense of panic started to overtake her, she had no idea what she was doing here, why she thought this was a good idea. Her mother had kept things from her for a reason, but now that she was facing the answers to all her questions, she was terrified. Her hands were shaking, and she clenched her fists together, her nails cutting into her palms. _Shit_ ,she thought, wiping the blood on her dark jeans. This didn’t look like the house of people who would be happy if she greeted them with blood on her hands. Gathering her nerves, she walked toward the front door, and knocked lightly. 

 

She wasn’t sure if she had been heard, or if anyone was even home, but glancing to the driveway- two cars- it was a good chance they were. Her watch read 6:30, she had probably just interrupted dinner, and was turned around to go, she’d try again tomorrow, when she heard the door open behind her. 

 

“Can I help you?” She heard a voice ask, as she spun back around. A tall, red-headed male whose frame took up the entire doorway stood before her, she would guess about mid-30’s. Her heart sank before she could find any words. This was all a sick joke. “You’ll find what you need here,” her aunt had said, but maybe that hadn’t meant what she was looking for. 

 

“I’m sorry if I’m interrupting dinner. I got your address from a friend, I’m wondering if you can help me find someone. My name is Abigail Cooper.” The color drained from the red-headed man’s face as she spoke, before he turned around back towards the house.

 

“RON!” He called out. _No, that wasn’t the name I was given._ But before she could question him, the most gorgeous raven-haired women, wearing a black dress, heels and pearls, stood beside him at the door. “She said her name was…”

 

“Oh my god.” The women stepped through the threshold of the door, and grabbed her face. She wanted to pull away from her, but her beautiful face was a mixture of both pain and excitement. Her eyes darted over her face, taking in all her features, running her hands thru her hair. One hand down to reached to grasp her hand, one hand still on her face, and she knew she could feel the dried blood and scars on the palm of her hand. _Please stop touching me like this, I don’t know who you are._ But the women was so intrigued by her, and something about her actions made her think she had the answers she was looking for. 

 

“Are you hungry? Dinner just came out of the oven, you’re more than welcome to eat with us if you’d like. I’m sure you have a lot of questions.” The raven-haired beauty, still holding her hand, pulled her inside, past the tall red-headed man, who hadn’t moved from the doorway, still standing there in awe and confusion. 

-

The kitchen was open, flowing directly into the dining room, where the women in pearls had set a plate in front of her, pouring her a glass of water before sliding into the seat directly across from her.

 

“Do you prefer Abigail or Abby?” The women asked. 

 

“Abigail.” She realized these people had invited her into their home, were feeding her pot roast and potatoes, and she didn’t know their names. “I’m sorry, I don’t think you told me your names.”

 

“Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry! I’m Veronica, my husband’s name is Archie. He grew up next door to your mother, and we were best friends in high school. I think I have a pretty good idea, but how old are you?

 

“18.” 

 

“I thought so…” Veronica half smiled, but there was a pain in her face. 

 

“I’m assuming you came to find him, then.” She looked up, as Archie finally spoke. His face looked stern and concerned. There was something wrong here. 

 

“I came for a lot of reasons. I have questions.” 

 

“Sweetie, if you came here tonight for answers, I’m not sure we can give them to you. We all have a lot of questions.” The raven-haired beauty seemed like she had more to say, but the front door opened again, and a smell wafted into the house as she heard a bookbag hit the floor. “Do not leave your practice gear at the front door-mud room please! And hurry up, dinner is already done.”

 

As he entered the room, Abigail looked up to meet his eyes. A mix of both of his parents, tall and full like his dad, his frame towered as he walked into the room, but he had his mother’s soft eyes, and her dark black hair. “Who are you?” He said, glancing at her. 

 

“Charlie, this is an old friend. Grab a plate and take it upstairs, your father and I are having a conversation. “

 

The house was quiet for a few minutes, Abigail picked away at her food, until she heard the loud rap music blare from an upstairs bedroom. 

 

“Abigail. It’s getting late. Where are you planning to stay tonight?”

 

“I got a room at the motel off of Route 9. It’s just south of town.”

 

“No. That won’t do. It’s not safe over there. You can stay here if you’d like, I’ll fix up the spare bedroom for you. You must be tired from a long day, get some sleep. Tomorrow I’ll try to answer some questions, but I’ve got questions for you too.” Veronica lead her upstairs, to a small bedroom that overlooked a large white house next door. “That room right there,” she said, pointing to the window directly across from the spare bedroom, “used to be your mom’s room when she was growing up.”

 

Abigail felt a lump in her throat. She was thankful for Veronica and Archie, for letting her stay the night. They seemed willing to give her information, but there was still something, she didn’t know what it was yet, that they seemed not willing to tell her. She stared out the window, towards her mom’s bedroom, and tried hard to imagine how things were then. Visions of her mom brushing her hair at her vanity, fixing her makeup and dancing around, laying on her bed studying or writing or reading. Her mom radiated perfection and grace, and being here it was easy to see why. This town had some kind of magic to it it felt like, like that little perfect American town you read about or watch on TV. She loved LA, there was something about the city that just seemed so alive, but Abigail couldn’t see why her mother would choose to raise her there, as opposed to a place like this.

-

 

Abigail woke to the sun coming in the window, and stirred softly, opening her eyes, for a moment forgetting where she was. The smell of bacon and eggs wafted up from downstairs, and she could feel the rumble in her stomach. She showered quickly, changing into shorts and a dark blouse, before heading down to greet the Andrew’s family. They looked so peaceful, the perfect little family sitting around the breakfast table.

 

“Good morning, Abigail!” Veronica said, as she made and handed Abigail a plate of food. “Boys- take your coffee to go, you’re going to be late!”

 

“Yes mother.” Archie said to his wife with a drain and a smile, as he grabbed two coffee mugs for him and his son. “She’s right though, we’ve got to stay ahead with this job.”

 

“Where do you work?” Abigail said, asking the first of many questions she had. 

 

“I own my own construction company, passed down to me from my dad. Charlie’s been helping me out thru the summer when he’s not at football practice.” He said, as he leaned down to kiss his wife goodbye. 

 

“Yes, because THAT’s how I wanted to spend my last summer before college.” He grumbled as he headed out the door, not saying goodbye to his mother or to her. 

 

“Now, little Cooper. Plans for today?” Veronica smiled as she cleared the breakfast table and started on the dishes. 

 

“There’s so much. I want to know everything. It’s hard to picture my mother in this town, her life here. What was she like?” That seemed like a good place to start. The mother she knew was a west coast editor for a fashion magazine, front row at fashion shows, travelling between LA and New York and Paris. She was cultured and classy and strong-willed. But this town seemed different, slower and softer than her mother was, and Abigail knew that the mother she knew was not the girl Veronica had known. 

 

“I pulled out some pictures to show you. She was my best friend, but so much more than that too. We were on the River Vixen’s together, sleep overs every weekend. I like to think I influenced your mother’s sense of style more than any fashion design school ever did.” Veronica said, as she slid Abigail a stack of pictures. Straight jeans and cardigan sweaters, her hair in a tight ponytail. Blue and gold uniform, red lipstick, her hair in a tight ponytail. Squeezed into a booth at a diner wearing a pink blouse, her hair in a tight ponytail, surrounded by a younger Veronica still wearing black and pearls, a red-headed Archie wearing a letterman jacket, a brunette boy with a dark green sweater, and tucked away next to her mother- steel grey eyes and jet black hair that waved out from under a grey beanie. 

 

“Is this…?” She asked, as she pointed to the boy with the odd shaped beanie on his head. 

 

“It is. We’ll get to that though.” Veronica said. She talked more about high school, how Abigail’s mother had helped to solve a murder of a high school student, showed her articles she had written for the school paper, the Blue and Gold. “When she left, it broke all of us.” Abigail looked up, and noticed that Veronica’s eyes were filled with tears. “She didn’t say anything, she was here one day, and then she was gone. I tried to reach her, I tried to call her. I didn’t even know where she went, until years later when I picked up a magazine and saw her name in the by-line. I did a Google search, and it was like a who’s-who of celebrity designers. She looks so different, her hair, her clothes. She never smiles in her pictures anymore…” 

 

“She never smiles at all anymore. She never wears her hair in a ponytail, not even to the gym. I don’t think she owns a single cardigan sweater, or a stitch of pink.” Abigail said, as she glanced down at the pictures laid out in front of her. Who was this girl in these pictures? What had happened that made her run from her life, run from the person that she was? Veronica had been right when she said she had more questions than answers for Abigail. 

 

“What was he like?” She said, pointing at the picture again.

 

“He was quiet, outside of us he kept to himself. Snarky and sarcastic, hard-shelled. He was Archie’s best friend from birth, but the two couldn’t be more different. Before I moved to Riverdale, it was always the three of them- him, Archie and your mom. I kind of slid my way into their little group. He was a writer, he wrote for the Blue and Gold with your mom, and later wrote a novel about the murder. He kind of snuck up on your mom, and on all of us. I’m still not sure how he managed to win her over, but she fell for his quick wit and dark locks. I knew who you were the second I saw you. You have your mother’s face and her frame, but his eyes, his hair. You are the perfect mold of both of them.” Abigail felt something of a smile thinking of her mom falling in love in high school, but she couldn’t wrap her head around the grunge look and the beanie. 

"Is he still in town?” 

 

“He is. But I think its best Archie tells you that part of the story.”

-

 

As she rode the elevator up to her apartment, her body started to ache with exhaustion. A quick trip to Paris was never a quick trip when it required almost 12 hours on a plane. She was still scrolling through her emails, deciding what needed her attention today and what could wait until tomorrow, when the elevator doors opened to her floor. Twisting her key in the door before pushing it open, she breathed a sigh of relief at finally being home. 

 

“Polly! Abigail!” Her voice rang out as she dropped her bag by the table by the door. “I got back a day early!”

 

“Betty!?” She heard her sister call from the other room. Betty walked down the hall, into the kitchen, to find her sister making breakfast. 

 

“Where’s Abigail?”

 

“Betty, you need to sit down. “ She could see the strain on her sisters face and knew something was amiss. 

 

“Polly, where is my daughter?” Her heart was racing, her fingers curled into fists, her nails digging into her palms. 

 

“She came to me, asking me questions. She’s 18 now, she needs to know.”

 

“POLLY COOPER- WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER!” She screamed, the exhaustion taking over and causing her to let go of all control she had. 

 

Polly’s eyes glanced at the clock, and she seemed to be subtracting the math in her head. “It’s about 11, I’d imagine she’s sitting at the Andrew’s kitchen table listening to Veronica tell her stories about you from high school.”

 

Betty turned so fast on her heels she was surprised one didn’t snap. She threw her bags back into a cab, called her assistant to purchase a ticket on the way to the airport, and told her she’d be gone a few more days. There was a storm coming, and she had to stop it from causing mass destruction.


	2. The Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She hated this place. This town in general, but this place specifically. It brought with it memories of how everything had fallen apart, the single place she could pinpoint as being responsible for ruining her life.

“Ma’am?”

 

“Miss?”

 

“Miss Cooper?”

 

The voice startled her, causing her to struggle for a moment to remember where she was. The back seat of a town car. She must have fallen asleep on the ride up from New York, she’d spent almost 18 hours of her last 24 on an airplane, it wasn’t any wonder why she was so exhausted. 

 

“Can you give me a moment, sir?” Reaching into her bag, she pulled out her small compact. Her face looked like shit-red and puffy from the exhaustion, flying and from the tears she had cried. _This wasn’t how it was supposed to be._ She pulled out a small multipurpose stick, spreading a small amount under her eyes, before dabbing a light blush on her cheeks. A quick swipe of the mascara brush, a quick touch-up of her long lasting red lipstick. She pulled her long blonde hair out of the braid she had travelled in and shook free the waves. Whatever look this was, it would have to do. 

 

“Ma’am. I know this is the address you gave, but I think there must be a mistake.”

 

As she pulled on one of her red soled shoes that she had haphazardly slipped off along her trip, she glanced out the window. The sun was just barely beginning to set, scattering the sky in shades of pink and yellow, contrasting with the greys of the broken concrete and rusted vehicles in the parking lot. Her eyes instinctively scanned the row of motorcycles parked close to the door, her mind making her think she could still pick out which one was his. 

 

“No,” she sighed, “this is the place.”

 

“Do you want me to wait for you? No offense ma’am, but this doesn’t seem like the type of place you usually frequent.”

 

“I’ll be fine,” she replied as she dug in her purse for her wallet, pulling out the cash to pay the driver. 

 

“Ma’am, I’m really not comfortable leaving you here alone.”

 

“Sir, I assure you, I will be fine. I have friends here, and if not here, then close by. Now, how much do I need to pay you to make you feel comfortable leaving me here?”

 

He stepped out, pulling the door open for her, holding his hand out to help her from the car. Once he had grabbed her bag from the trunk, she handed him the wad of cash she had pulled from her wallet, and thanked him with a promise to call the company and ask for him directly should anything go wrong and she did in fact need a ride. 

 

For a moment, she stood alone in the parking lot. She hated this place. This town in general, but this place specifically. It brought with it memories of how everything had fallen apart, the single place she could pinpoint as being responsible for ruining her life. Or at least, ruining the life she had had, the one she thought she’d always wanted. 

 

But this, where she was at now, was where she had never known she’d always dreamed of being. Each time she got an invitation to the Met Gala, or front row tickets to a Fall fashion show, she would get butterflies in her stomach. Seeing her name in the glossy print of a byline sent shivers down her spine. No, this is right where she wanted to be, not standing in front of THIS place. 

 

Her eyes trailed up towards the sign, noting sometime in the last almost two decades, it had been replaced, there was no longer a ‘Y’ missing. The Whyte Wyrm. She hated this place. 

 

Her fingers instinctively started to curl into her palms, but she tugged on the edge of her black blouse, smoothing it down as she tried to calm her nerves. For years, she’d struggled with how, when and if to tell Abigail the truth about her father, their story together. As she’d gotten older, she knew the day would come eventually, but she still had tried everything in her power to avoid her daughter finding him. She never dreamed that Polly would betray her, providing her daughter that missing piece of information she had been searching for, but there was so much more that her sister and her mother didn’t know. The real reason why she had left Riverdale, why she had never came back, never gotten in touch with those she’d left behind. She sighed, resigning to herself that this was how this story was going to unfold. One more deep breath, and she stepped forward. 

 

Pushing through the door, she felt her heart stop. It felt like a flood of emotions all at once, attacking each of her senses. The sound, the smell, the sights, the memories. A soft rock song played in the background, but it did nothing to drown out the silence as every eye turned to stare into hers. The women who sat snuggled on laps of men in black leather jackets sneered at her as she stood there, basked in the last few rays of daylight. 

 

Her eyes swept around the bar; pool tables she used to hustle money from older members on, a stage off to the right that held three long, silver poles- a memory of a long-regretted dance. Not one pair of eyes that she met held any sense of familiarity for her, and that thought both comforted and terrified her. She was alone, but no one knew who she was. 

 

After what felt like hours, her legs finally began to move her forward, heels sticking softly to the dingy tiled floor. She slid into an empty bar stool on the far end of the bar, placing herself with her back facing the back hallway. With grace that only a bartender can have, he placed a napkin in front of her, his eyes meeting hers and asking a question with no words. 

 

“Jack and diet, please” she said. He placed the drink in front of her, the taste bringing back memories she had forgotten. Pre-gaming before Friday night games with Veronica, sneaking flasks into the Bijou, sloppy kisses on the couch in his father’s trailer, reminding her of why she always stuck to white wine or champagne. No memories of him hidden in the after taste. 

 

“You look like you’re on a mission,” the bartender said, as he brought her another. She paused, squeezing the lime into her drink and swirling the straw around the rim slowly.

 

“I’m looking for someone. Jones.” Her voice came out softer, surprising herself that she couldn’t say his full name out loud. 

 

“You look too young to be here to see Junior, and J doesn’t date, so you’re gonna need to clarify who you came to see.” 

 

Before she could respond, she felt a tight grip on her elbow, instantly the smell of cigarettes and soap invading her personal space. A very distinct combination that seemed to haunt her dreams. 

 

“Easy Fangs, don’t want to let FP hear you call him Junior. She’s here for me. Let’s go.” The voice behind her reached up, grabbing her arm and pulling her off the bar stool. He spun her around and even though she hadn’t seen his face, she had never forgotten his voice- mumbling to himself as he stood in front of their murder board, soft whispers in her ear as his body pushed hers to its breaking point. The hold he had on her elbow tightened, as he started to guide her down the hallway. Her eyes darted back towards the bartender, meeting his as he wiped his hands on the towel that hung from his belt loop. 

 

He didn’t let go of her arm as he guided her in front of him, as he pushed her down the long hallway, dropping her arm only when he had closed the door to his office. “Sit.” His voice was demanding, that soft, sweet, loving sound she had once associated with him gone, and it made her tremble. 

 

When she looked up to meet his eyes, she found them steel grey and hardened. Wrinkles accented the dark bags under his eyes, his hair was cut shorter, the long jet-black curls were gone, and so was the crown beanie he had always worn. A gentle stubble lined his face, a startling difference from the fresh-faced teen she had once known. Under his leather vest he wore a dark flannel, an old S t-shirt peeking out through the layers. _Well, at least some things don’t ever change._

-

 

“What the hell are you doing here?” The second she walked in the bar, his dad had found him, giving him only a half-minute warning before facing his past. Sinking back in his chair, he stared at her, trying to find the girl that he had known. All he was met with was a mess of solid black, the only hint of color coming from the red-soled heels he only knew of because of Veronica and the bright shade of red she wore on her lips. Long blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders, not tied back in the tight ponytail he was used to seeing her with. Her green eyes didn’t sparkle when she stared at him, only a cold, blank stare. _Nothing there that was the same._

 

“There’s something we need to talk about, Jug.” He heard her voice for the first time in 19 years, and he knew he had goosebumps on his arm under his flannel. _God, she’s something.  
_

“What in the world is there to talk about, Elizabeth?” He watched as she bit her lip when he said her full name. “I thought I made it perfectly clear the last time I saw you, that I didn’t want you.” Even saying those words, he knew they weren’t true. They hadn’t been true even then, but he couldn’t let himself think about that day.

 

Her hands were shaking, he could see the hard resolve she’d had when she first walked into his bar, crumble. As much as he wanted to reach out and steady them, uncurl her fingers from her palms, the days of dancing around her were long gone. He stretched forward, placing his arms on the desktop and leaning down onto his elbows. Blank green eyes stared back into his, pleading and begging him to listen. 

 

“I didn’t know when I left. You have to understand that part first. I didn’t find out until a month or so later, and then I knew you were so far gone.” He watched as she struggled to find words, his brow furrowed as he watched her eyes.

 

“What didn’t you know? That you should always knock before entering a room?” She winced when he said that. “You need to leave. Go back to the sunshine state and write your pretty little articles about your pretty little clothes. There’s nothing here for you anymore.” 

 

“I can’t leave, because even if I leave now, you’ll still find out pretty soon. Jughead, you need to listen to me. I wouldn’t have left if I had known. I promise you, I wouldn’t have left if I would have known.” Her voice was pleading, he watched as her eyes started to tear up. 

 

“What the hell, Betty. Just tell me what’s going on. What brought the prodigal daughter back to Riverdale?” 

 

He watched as she took a breath and seemed to hold it in, her chest swelling, tears rolling off her cheeks. She glanced down at his desk, not daring to look into his eyes, as he heard her whisper- “Your daughter did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knew when I was re-editing this, that a lot would change, but I didn't plan on rewriting the majority of this chapter almost 3 times! 
> 
> Thanks for all of the love, comments and kudos!
> 
> follow me on tumblr @theonlyemmaleigh


	3. The Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His biggest fear had always been that he would become like his father- a drunk in the back room of the bar, dreams of the girl who left him haunting his nightmares. In that instant though, he realized that was exactly who he had become. Everything that had happened since she left, every step he had taken, was towards becoming his father.

Rage was not an emotion that Jughead Jones felt particularly well-associated with. Being president of a motorcycle club, he had learned years ago to manage and control his anger, and in turn, he’d managed to turn the club he inherited from his father, into something he was moderately proud of. But rage was not what he felt when he stared across the table at the long-haired blonde, but something different entirely.

 

There had been a time, years ago, when she’d been the best part of him, that part that kept him centered, grounded, in the middle of everything- falling into the motorcycle club, realizing his dreams of leaving Riverdale were just dreams. They had planned out a life, getting out of town, college in New York or California, a new place they could start over, together. But life had taken over, gotten in the way in that way it always does. In the end, there was no money, no scholarships for him, staying in Riverdale to work for a year was his only choice. Over that last summer together, they’d started fighting more and more, his involvement with the Serpents seeming to be the catalyst. He was supposed to help her finish packing, take her to Pop’s for one last dinner the night before she left, but his father had called an emergency meeting. He’d invited the blonde along to wait, hoping they’d still be able to make it out to the river for one last sunset. That night, however, his father had handed him a Vice President patch, naming him his next in line. He’d been swept over to the bar after the meeting, celebratory shots of tequila making him lose track of time, and his blonde. 

 

He’d stumbled around for about an hour after he realized she was missing, and found her sitting in the chair he sat in now. Tucked away in his office, her head in her hands, tears streaming down her face. His head was spinning from the alcohol, and he struggled to comprehend the words she was saying, her voice was shaken and soft between the tears. She was done being his second choice, done being put aside because of the Serpents, and he had a choice to make- the new patch, or her. In that moment, the rage he was unfamiliar with overtook him, and he said words to her he’d regretted every day since, telling her she should go, that he wasn’t choosing her over the Serpents. When she stormed out of his office, he slunk into the chair, struggling to grasp the words that had came out of his mouth, unable to believe that that was the last time he would ever see her. 

 

Quiet snuffles pulled him back to reality, remembering the blonde that sat across from him. 

 

His eyes darted up to meet hers with a look of disbelief. “What did you say?”

 

“Your daughter, Jughead. Our daughter.” He watched as her gaze sunk down, burrowing holes in the desk top.

 

“Our daughter?” He raged at her, “OUR DAUGHTER?!” His hands gripped the edge of the desk, trying to steady his heart rate. “How could you keep this from me?”

 

“That night when I left, you broke my heart. Choosing the Serpents, telling me to leave, that next day. Everything I was, you broke in that single moment. By the time I found out I was pregnant, I knew you had changed, that you weren’t the same man I had loved, and that making that phone call would just break my heart all over again. Nothing would have changed. A baby wouldn’t have made you chose me, it wouldn’t have made you love me again. I know it was wrong, I knew it was wrong then, but I thought I was doing what was best for her and I.” He watched as she finally looked up to meet his eyes, and saw all the years of hurt he had caused. 

 

Something inside of him softened when he saw the tears in her eyes. This was never the life he had wanted, never the life he wanted for them. His biggest fear had always been that he would become like his father- a drunk in the back room of the bar, dreams of the girl who left him haunting his nightmares. In that instant though, he realized that was exactly who he had become. Everything that had happened since she left, every step he had taken, was towards becoming his father. And now, she sat before him, telling him he had a daughter, who had spent her life growing up not knowing anything about him, thinking he didn’t love her. He loved her instantly without even knowing her, and what little resolve he had left was crumbling at the thought of her. 

 

He pushed his chair back, stretching his legs as he moved around the desk, reaching into the small fridge he kept in the corner. He pulled out two regular Cokes, sliding one across the table towards the blonde. 

 

“Sorry, I don’t have anything stronger back here to offer you.” 

 

For a moment, they sat in silence together, slowly sipping on the crisp beverage. 

 

“Come with me, there’s something I want to show you.” He stepped away from the desk, and quickly snapped his fingers together twice. From the corner of the room, a large ball of fluff stirred, opening his eyes and stretching out his limbs. The large gold and brown dog glanced over to the blonde, seeming to sense both a new presence and the stress in the room. Padding softly across the room towards her, he nudged her hand with her nose, begging for her attention. 

 

“Come on, Hotdog,” the dog briefly looked up to his owner, happily wagging his tale and pushing more into the blonde running her fingers over his ears. “She’s coming with us.”

 

At that, the large dog seemed to be satisfied, as he led the way out of the room, down the hallway away from the bar, and to the back entrance. 

 

The sun had already set, and the barely working street lamps cast strange shadows across the empty lot. 

 

“Jughead.” Her voice was still scratchy, softly calling out to him. “Where’s your bike?”

 

Hotdog had led them over to a large black truck with black accents and a Serpent logo in the rear window. He opened the rear passenger door, tossing in her bag and watching as Hotdog jumped up in to the seat. She stepped back slightly, staring up at the truck, and he noticed that her shoulder barely came to the door. 

 

“This is more practical for day to day with Hotdog. He goes everywhere I do. Think you’ll need some help getting in?” He watched as she swung the door open, placing her heeled foot carefully on the running board and sliding herself into the passenger seat with a gentle grace.

 

He fumbled with the radio before settling on a 90’s alternative station, a Foo Fighters song coming through the stereo. They rode in silence through the Southside, he watched her eyes taking in the town that had broken her so much. Nothing was the same as it was when she left- new businesses sat in place of long ago boarded up store fronts, but as they drove past Sunnyside Trailer Park and the place he had lived with his father all those years ago, he noticed her lean her head against the window. 

 

“Everything looks so different, Jug. So much more life than when I left.”

 

“Well, Bets, 19 years is a long time. The Serpents being clean has done a lot for the economy here.”

 

She didn’t ask anymore questions, instead sitting in silence and humming along to a Beck song, as he turned the truck off the main road and unto a small access road that lead into the woods. He guided the truck through the narrow trail, bumping along the gravel road until the trees gave way to a clearing that overlooked all of Riverdale and the Southside. 

 

“This is where I come when I need to think, or escape. It’s calming and peaceful, to look out over the city and watch it from afar.” He turned off the engine, stepping down from the truck as Hotdog took off running through the open field. 

 

“It’s really beautiful up here, Jug.” Her voice was still soft as she moved to sit next to him on the tailgate. 

 

“It really is.”

 

“So, tell me about Hotdog.”

 

“He’s a police dog failure, which is why he has to come everywhere with me, he gets too stressed if I leave him home. The kennel said he didn’t pass his physical test, something about prone to hip problems, but as you saw in my office, I think he failed because he’s so lazy. He’s been with me about 4 years. I got him a year or so after I got out of prison on drunk driving charges…” His voice had trailed off when he saw the look on her face, she seemed taken aback by his frank statement, almost afraid of him. 

 

“There’s a lot that’s happened since you’ve been gone, Bets.”

 

Slowly, he told her everything that he’d done in the years since she’d been gone. How after she left, he’d drank himself into such a stupor he’d had to be hospitalized for dehydration. He moved in with Archie and Veronica, but four years after Charlie was born, Archie told him he needed to leave, he kept coming home drunk. For a few years, he’d slept at the bar before he bought a house on the edge of town. About ten years after she left, he’d totaled his bike, and then spent the next two years behind bars for drunk driving, it hadn’t been his first offense. When he got out, he’d rescued Hotdog, who gave him something to be responsible for, someone to look after, someone that relied on him, and he started going to AA, and not just because it was court ordered. About two years ago, his dad had gotten sick and officially stepped down, handing over the reins of the Serpents to him. He’d pushed hard to keep the club clean, away from dealing guns and drugs, passing those accounts over to the Ghoulies, and instead working to make the Whyte Wyrm an actual bar and not just club headquarters. Over the years, Sheriff Keller had turned away from his obsession with the Serpents, finally seeing the little bit of good they had done for the Southside community. 

 

Sometime while he was talking, her hand had reached out across the tailgate, stroking lightly across his knee while he told her about withdraws and days spent in bed because his body was too weak to move. Momentarily he felt lost in the moment, like she had only suddenly appeared in his bar to finally mend their past, but when he looked up and saw the tears that had welled in her green eyes, he remembered, and wondered if she had the same green eyes as her mother. Almost as if she could read his mind, the blonde sitting next to him spoke, her voice softly breaking out into the void.

 

“She’s incredible, Jug, she really is. She’s smart and witty and sarcastic. She’s strong-willed and courageous in ways I could only have dreamt of when I was her age.” 

 

He grabbed her hand from his knee, stroking the back of her hand softly. “Of course she’s incredible, Bets, she’s your daughter.”

 

“She loves old vinyl records and used book stores, she hates crowds of people and she likes her burgers with the works. She got into Columbia, NYU and UCLA, but hasn’t officially decided yet. She’s more like you than I ever thought possible, growing up without you, but you must have some strong DNA.”

 

“Do you have any pictures?” He felt his heart swell with pride even just hearing Betty tell him stories of her. 

 

“I can do you better than that, Jug. She came here to meet you. Are you ready to meet her?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of the love- comments and kudos! 
> 
> Follow me on tumblr @theonlyemmaleigh


	4. The Inquisition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She felt like she was watching a slow-motion car crash, knowing what the outcome would be but being helpless to stop it.

His knees bounced as she drove his truck through the streets of Riverdale, his fingers tapping along with his knees. She wanted to reach out, to hold his hand and steady his fears, but she’d already crossed that line once when she reached for him earlier when they sat on his tailgate. There had always been this magnetic pull between them, even when they were younger, they would often find themselves sitting so close together they were touching. She reached forward, flipping the radio on, and searching through the stations, trying to find something that might calm his nerves. An old Oasis song came through, reminding her of a time when she thought he would be the one to save her, but how in the end she’d been the one that needed to save herself. Despite almost two decades away from Riverdale, she knew the drive to Archie’s house like the back of her hand- he still lived in the house that he grew up in, the same house that was directly next door to her childhood home. 

When she pulled the truck into the driveway, they sat silently in the car for just a moment. Going through that door would change both of their lives, as well as the lives of those on the other side of the door. 

He opened the door first, the noise of the truck door slamming pulling her back to reality. Before Jughead could knock on the door, or barge through it for that matter, the door opened, and Betty found herself standing on the porch with both of her childhood best friends. 

“Archie...” she had so much she wanted to say, so much that needed to be said.

“No, B. No.” She looked up and saw the hurt in his eyes, the pain she had caused. When she left Riverdale, she hadn’t just left Jughead- she had left Archie and Veronica too, without a goodbye or any phone calls. They were too close to Jughead for her to hang on to them, and when she found out she was pregnant, she knew if they stayed a part of her life, that they’d find out about Abigail, and then so would Jughead. _Abigail._

“Please, Archie. Just let me see her first.” Her voice was pleading, she needed a chance to explain herself to her daughter. 

“Fine. She’s in the kitchen with Veronica.” He stepped aside to let her in, and Betty reached her hand out to graze his arm as she walked past, thankful for his kindness.  
“What, so she gets to tell her part of the story first, Archie!” Jughead pushed past Archie, following Betty down the hallway and into the kitchen.

 

“Mom?” Betty watched as her daughter got up from the table, and Veronica spun around in her chair. Before Betty could get any words out, Jughead appeared by her side. “I think I need to sit down.” Betty heard her whisper and watched as Abigail sank back into her chair at the table.

-

There was a moment in the bar, when Jughead had wanted to scream at Betty and tell her there was no way he had a daughter, that she had lied to herself all these years about the kid being his. He wanted to call her horrible names and tell her it was probably some guy in California’s daughter, that she was mistaken. But seeing her there, his heart stopped. The frame of her face, the lightness of her body, she looked exactly like her mom did all those years ago. Except her hair was jet black and unruly, curly and cowlicked. She looked up to meet him with her steel grey eyes, and it felt like he was seeing his eyes in the mirror. _Holy shit._

-

 

She felt like she was watching a slow-motion car crash, knowing what the outcome would be but being helpless to stop it. He stood in front of her, towering over her mother’s small frame. His hair was shorter than in all the other pictures she had seen, and he was lacking what seemed to be his trademark beanie. Her body sank back into the chair she’d just risen from, her legs feeling too shaky to hold her anymore.

Still watching in a haze, she heard Veronica mumbled something about Pop’s, and she vaguely remembered that chocolate shop she’d passed the day before, wondering what kind of chocolates they sold that would be sustainable for the dinner Veronica claimed she was going to get. Her mother stepped forward, wrapping her arms around the raven-haired girl, and for the first time, she got a good glimpse at her. Her perfectly poised and put together mother, had dried mascara under her eyes. 

Her mother’s voice was quiet as she thanked the women, squeezing her hand tightly as she grabbed her black purse and headed for the door. She realized slowly that they were alone, just the three of them. With a grace that had came from her Grandma Alice, she realized how rude she was being by still sitting at the table and moved to stand next to her mother. 

“Jughead, this is my daughter, Abigail. Our daughter, Abigail.” Her mother’s hands were trembling as she reached for her own, squeezing hers in the same way she had done Veronica’s just moments earlier. 

“Veronica pulled some pictures out for me earlier. Looks like you finally got a decent haircut, but I see the grunge fashion is still in.” Betty stared, her mouth agape but noticed a smirk on Jughead’s face out of the corner of her eye. “Are you guys going to tell me what’s going on?”

“Honey, there’s a lot we’re going to tell you, and maybe not all tonight.” Betty said, watching still as Jughead seemed to be taking this all in, memorizing all the pieces of Abigail’s face. 

He stood still, just barely inside the dining room door, staring at her. Something about him was both terrifying and familiar- the black jacket slung over his shoulders gave her chills, but his grey eyes were the same she saw every morning. After what felt like hours, he moved across the room, choosing the chair across the table from the one she had been sitting in. She followed his cue, and sat back down at the table, her mother’s hand still linked in hers as she sat in the chair beside her. 

“Okay, starters. Did you know you were pregnant when you left?” She heard her mother let out a small sigh, and felt her release her hand from her grip, turning herself in the chair so she could face her more directly. 

“No, I didn’t.” 

“Would you have left if you’d known?”

“No. I wouldn’t have.” There was something in her mother’s eyes, those dark green eyes that she was so jealous of, that gave off a feeling of regret. Regret for leaving Riverdale, regret for not telling her father about her, regret for not telling Abigail about him, or maybe it was even regret for coming back here, for not letting her find this all out on her own. But there were two sides to every story, and even if her mother hadn’t followed her here, there would still be questions he didn’t have the answers to. 

“Why’d you leave then?” Her gaze was locked with her mothers, and she watched as tears started to well in the corners of her eyes, and she started to speak, before the man across the table from her finally broke his silence. 

“There’s a lot to explain. My dad, he ran a motorcycle club on the southside of town. He knew he was going to be going away for some time for his part in a murder coverup, and he needed someone he could trust to step up and take the lead. He asked me to be his vice-president and take control of the club. I said yes, your mother said no.” That explained the black jacket he wore, but that reason alone didn’t seem like a good enough reason for her mother to leave Riverdale and not ever look back, leaving behind everyone she knew and loved. 

“That wasn’t what I wanted for me, for my life. So, I made my choice. I ran. I didn’t even tell Veronica and Archie that I was leaving, because I knew they would try to stop me, try to make me stay. I couldn’t be anywhere near this town, knowing the things the club did, I couldn’t be around that. I was in California for a month or so before I found out I was pregnant with you.”

“Did you know?” Her eyes shot across the table, steel grey meeting steel grey, but she knew before he spoke the answer to her question. 

“No, I found out today.” 

“So why did you come back?” There was a hint of anger in her voice as she turned her attention back towards her mother. 

“He had to know. And I couldn’t let you find out alone.” 

“All these years you say nothing to him about me, or about me to him, and now, ONLY NOW that Polly gave me the information I needed, you want to act like this was the plan all along? For you to follow me out here and rescue me from finding the dangerous man who is my father? You tell me you didn’t want me to find out alone, but you didn’t want me to find out at all. If I never would have gotten that information from Polly, if I never would have come here, would you have ever told me about him? Would you have ever picked up the phone and told HIM about ME?”

“Abigail.” She could hear the tears in her mother’s voice, but she didn’t bother to look up at her, instead shredding a paper napkin she’d found on the table into tiny pieces. 

“The choice your mother made was solely hers alone. I can’t sit here and promise you that everything would have been rainbows and sunshine if she had stayed, if I had ever known about you. When she left, I was in a dark place, and I stayed in that place for years after that. I can’t guarantee that if I had known about you, if you had been here with me, that things for you would have been any different for you than they were for me growing up. My father was a horrible father, either absent or drunk for most of my childhood, and yeah, I’m sober now but then, then I can’t say I wouldn’t have been exactly like him. Her leaving was the best thing for her, and without knowing it, for you as well.” The look on his face, the way his brow furrowed when he spoke, reminded her again of her own movements, the DNA she shared with this man was strikingly strong.

The three fell into a silence, her mothers hand reaching out to stroke her own as tears continued to fall from her face. There was more to say, more questions to be asked, but she could feel it, the exhaustion and the emotions of the day taking their hold on the three that sat at the table. 

-

 

“Who’s hungry!” Veronica’s voice rang out thru the silence. The smell of burgers, fries and onion rings brought him away from the lack of conversation at the table.

“Ah, god. I haven’t had Pop’s in forever! Thanks Ronnie!” He caught the look on Betty’s face as he got up to help Veronica bring the dinner in. 

“Really? I remember when you couldn’t go a day without at least 3 burgers.” He gave her a look while she grabbed two for herself and loaded her plate with onion rings and raised his eyebrows at her. It’d been years since he’d felt that magnetic pull, always knowing when she entered a room, when she was near. He wanted to fight her, he wanted to fight her being here. He wanted to be angry and scream and yell and throw things. But the truth was, she was here, and right now, that was enough. She had rolled back into his life with her long hair blowing in the wind and an 18 year old daughter and he didn’t have the words left to fight back.  
“Since when do you eat burgers, mom? It’s going to take you over a month to burn off those onion rings!” He glanced at the dark-haired girl who had entered the kitchen-his daughter. That word. He couldn’t call her that, but he was thankful that she seemed to have inherited his snarky sense of humor, even if she had been cursed with his unruly dark curls. 

“Don’t let your mom lie to you, she used to go burger for burger with me. And then shot for shot with Archie over there.” 

“Hey, hey, now. Don’t be jealous of my shot skills. Green isn’t your color, remember?” He watched, as what could be described as the slightest smile came across Betty’s face as she laughed. 

The friends had gathered around the kitchen table while Hotdog found his place underneath, when the door from the garage shut, and the smell of sweat and dirty laundry entered the room. 

“Now Jughead’s here. And who is this one? Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” Jughead looked up and almost laughed at the look on Charlie Andrews face as he grabbed a plate and loaded it with burgers.

“Charlie, just sit down. It’s been a long day. Apparently, Jughead has a daughter and Betty Cooper rolled into town today.” Archie said, as he looked up to his son, who had a look of confusion and recognition on his face. 

“Sounds like you had a bad day, Jug.” 

‘Well, my morning was fine.” Jughead responded, and his eyes meeting Betty’s, and he saw a soft glimmer. 

-

 

Betty walked into the bedroom that had at one time been Archie’s, and then both Archie and Jughead’s. She glanced out the window, across the lawn to the bedroom that had for half of her life, been hers. She remembered the ladder, and Jughead climbing in thru her window. She remembered dancing around while she did her makeup, laying on her bed reading or studying. She hated being back here, because it brought everything back up to the surface. 

If she had never left, would they have had dinners like this more often? Would Abigail and Charlie have grown up as best friends, him always being her protector? Would their friendship have developed into something more? Would they be planning their lives together after high school, making their college choices together so they could be close? 

Would Jughead have stayed with the motorcycle club, or would he have gotten away from that life once Abigail was born? Would he still drink like he used to, slowly becoming his father, or would he have pushed that away from the beginning? Would she have saved him, or would she have lost him anyway?

All the thoughts she had and was trying to sort through while she stared out the window, were interrupted when her daughter came back into the room. 

“Mom?” Betty turned away from the window, away from her what if’s. 

Her daughter reached her hand out and grabbed hers. “I’m so sorry. I should have told you everything. I should have told him.”

“Mom. You can’t change the choices you made, whether or not I agree with them. He doesn’t seem so bad, Mom. He asked me to spend the day with him tomorrow, just us. Is that okay?” 

“He was never a bad person, Abigail. He was young and impulsive and wrapped up in something that was bigger than him. Despite everything, for a large part of my life, he was my entire life. Him and Archie, the three of us were so closely intertwined growing up. As much as I told myself differently, I don’t think I ever truly thought he was a bad person, but he fell into a bad situation. We talked today, before we came to see you, and the things he told me, the things he went through after I left, I want to believe he’s different than he was when I left. I trust you, and ultimately, I trust him as well, but you need to be careful. There’s a lot more to this town than burgers and milkshakes.”

She laid back on the air mattress, her blonde hair splaying out around the pillow, and turned on her side, facing away from the bed her daughter lay on, as her body caved, trembling as she gave into the tears she’d been holding back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness- I am BLOWN AWAY by the love and comments and kudos! And I got my first Fic Rec today, so I'm SUPER excited about that! Thank you, you guys are amazing!
> 
> follow me on tumblr @theonlyemmaleigh


	5. The Real Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She had never really let herself feel how much she missed him, but being back here, even just being in the same house with him, brought back all these emotions she didn’t know she still had. He had lived an entire life that didn’t include her, and she had no idea who he was today.

The hot water from the shower hitting her skin did nothing to help her wake up. She splashed cold water on her face, braiding back her blonde locks, quietly digging through the small bag of clothes she’d been recycling from her vacation. A black sleeveless blouse and black shorts made the cut as being the least dirty, and she made a mental note to ask Veronica if she could wash some clothes. She swiped a small amount of makeup across her face, anything to try to mask the exhaustion and redness that had seemingly invaded her normally flawless complexion. Whatever the day held, she knew it would be long and emotionally draining, but hiding in the Andrew’s spare bathroom would not make anything easier. She dropped her bag back in Archie’s former bedroom, making sure Abigail was awake before slipping downstairs. 

The house was quiet, she thought everyone else was still asleep, but he stood there in the kitchen, coffee mug in hand, staring out the back window at the treehouse that still sat in the Andrew’s back yard. He seemed taller, his frame fuller than she remembered him- it’d been so many years since she’d seen him, and yesterday had been such a blur, besides his face staring across his office desk at her, she hadn’t taken the time to really take him in. He resembled his father, everything down to the way he stood, it was striking, and slightly terrifying. The black leather jacket had been replaced today, and instead he wore a simple grey t-shirt and jeans, but the lack of the flannel tied around his waist reminded her that he wasn’t the boy she had left behind, he’d became a man in the years she’d been gone. She had never really let herself feel how much she missed him, but being back here, even just being in the same house with him, brought back all these emotions she didn’t know she still had. He had lived an entire life that didn’t include her, and she had no idea who he was today. Her feet shuffled softly on the tile as she switched her weight to her other foot, leaning herself against the door frame. The noise seemed to pull him out of his trance, away from his thoughts that she wished she could hear. 

“Morning, Betts.” His voice was shaky when he turned around, settling into a seat at the dining room table, his anxiety seeping from his pores.

“She’ll be down in a minute, she’s just finishing up.” She said, as she poured herself a cup of coffee. “Do you want a refill?”

“Yeah, that’d be nice. Black. Thanks.” 

“You don’t need to tell me how you take your coffee, Jug. Unless you suddenly became a 10 cream, 10 sugars kind of guy, I think I can handle it. She’s excited about today, you know.” She said as she sat the cup down in front of him and slid into the seat across the table from him. 

“I’m nervous. What do you do with an 18-year-old girl?” He said, as he took a sip of the black coffee in front of him.

“Well, don’t do what you did with me and you should be fine.” He glanced up and almost spit out his coffee. “I’m kidding. She likes to read, she likes art, she listens to vinyl. She is your daughter Jughead, whether you’ve been around or not, she’s inherited a lot of you.”

“So maybe Macon? They’ve got a nice library and that record store.” She heard him say, not even to her, but more to himself. 

“Jughead, just one thing, please. Don’t take her to see FP. She’s not ready for that yet. I’ll go with you, maybe in a few days.”

“Nah, he’d make her run all the way back to LA the second she laid eyes on him.”

“On who?” The soft voice broke through the conversation. Betty looked up, neither of them had realized she’d walked into the room. 

“Just an old friend, sweetie. You look nice.” Betty had to smile to herself, her daughter did have a better sense of style than she did when she was her age. She seemed to have somehow inherited Veronica’s sense of style, dark clothes had always been her go to. Today however, she’d opted for a more relaxed look, black chino shorts and a dark grey cotton t-shirt paired perfectly with her favorite pair of black Vans, her hair wadded up in a messy knot of curls on top of her head. 

“We’d better get going, Abigail. We’ll be back in time for dinner.” Betty watched, as he placed his cup in the sink, before turning to her. They stood for a moment, unsure what to do, until he closed the small gap between them, and wrapped her in his arms. She breathed in his smell- cigarette smoke and soap - he smelled like everything she had been running from, but he smelled like home to her. Betty lingered in his embrace for just a moment, before remembering that her daughter was also in the room. She slipped from his arms, and reached over to squeeze Abigail’s hand, before kissing her on her cheek. She watched as they stepped out the front door, watching as Abigail swung herself up into Jughead’s black truck. 

She stepped away from the window, and back into the kitchen to clean up the coffee mugs. Her heart was heavy, and she felt a tinge of jealousy for Abigail, getting to spend an entire day with Jughead. She heard the soft click of heels coming down the hallway, turned her head, and was faced with the next obstacle of her little trip back to her hometown.

“She’s gorgeous, B.” Her leggy raven-haired former best friend entered the kitchen, grabbing a cup of coffee. “She looks so much like you and like him. I knew who she was the moment I saw her, before she even told me her name.”

“Thanks Veronica. Are you sad Charlie didn’t get the famous Andrews red-hair?”

“Nah, at least he got Archie’s build. He’s a beast on the football field, he got a full ride to State. He wants to study architecture, so he can come back and work with Archie after college. Has Abigail made plans yet?”

“We’ve talked about it, she doesn’t want to stay in California, and I’m starting to not blame her. She got excepted into UCLA, NYU and Columbia, but she hasn’t made up her mind yet. She’s keeps talking about the east coast, so we’ll see. If she does, I’ll have to put in for a transfer to the east coast office, but I think it’d be good for both of us, a change in scenery.”

The two friends sat in silence for a few moments, small talk out of the way, neither of them really wanting to bring up what needed to be said. 

“Betty, he wasn’t the only one you hurt when you left.” Betty wanted to sink into the chair and slide under the table, a conversation she had long been avoiding finally coming to the surface. “Archie didn’t eat for days and stared out his window every night for weeks waiting for you to come home. Jughead drank himself into a stupor and me? I was left trying to keep them both alive. You were their life, they both loved you. Hell, I loved you too. But them? They were wrecks. And then I found out I was pregnant, about a month after you left. And I needed you. I didn’t tell Archie until I was almost 4 months along, because I was so afraid of how he’d react. It wasn’t until a few years later, I found out where you were and what you were doing. You were spotted sitting front row at New York Fall Fashion week, and I felt my heart drop. I googled your name, finding your articles and all the work you’d done. Everything you have, is everything I wanted growing up. You’re living my life, B. The life I would have had if I wouldn’t have gotten pregnant, if I would have left.” She watched her best friend, tears welling up in her eyes. 

“Ronnie, I know I can’t ever tell you how sorry I am for leaving, for not telling you, for not telling you about Abigail, but I thought I was making the right choice. For her and for me. Jughead had gone down such a dark path, and I knew I couldn’t be a part of his life, especially after what he did when I came to apologize. And after I found out I was pregnant, I knew I couldn’t tell him, or you, because I knew he wouldn’t move to be with me, that he wouldn’t be a part of her life, so why did it matter if he knew or not?” She knew she had her reasons for what she did, but saying them out loud, made them seem so small, and made her think again that maybe she hadn’t made the right choice.

“When you came to apologize? Betty- what happened?” Veronica asked the question she knew would have to explain. Betty took a deep breath, and sighed.  
“The night before I left, Jughead officially accepted his vice president position with the club. I told him I couldn’t be a part of it, and he told me the club was his life now, and if I couldn’t be a part of that, then I needed to leave. It was just a fight, Ronnie. I couldn’t sleep that night. The next morning, I drove out to the Whyte Wyrm to find him. I needed to apologize, we had to figure out something, I couldn’t be without him. He wasn’t working the bar, but one of the guys said he was in his new office working on something, so I went down the hallway and let myself in without knocking. Veronica. I walked in on him with another girl.”

She watched as Veronica’s eyes sank, and she grabbed Betty’s hand. “B- I’m so sorry.”

“I couldn’t stay here after that. I couldn’t stay here and listen to his excuses, listen to him back pedal and try to explain himself. I couldn’t face him. I couldn’t fight to make it work with him, because I couldn’t look past what he did. I had to leave. I had to get far away from him, from what he did, from Riverdale.” Betty’s eyes welled up, but she let the tears fall this time. She had held so much in for all these years, Polly and her mom didn’t even know the real reason why she left.

Veronica held her hand, and the two sat in silence and cried for a bit. She hadn’t realized how long it had been, how long they had sat at that table, until her stomach rumbled. Veronica looked up, a mischievous smirk falling across her face. 

“We need food. Maybe some shopping. Maybe a mani-pedi. Let’s get out of this house. Make ourselves a little girls day.”

“That’d be nice, V.”

The two women changed and loaded up into Veronica’s BMW, a nice little black whip. _Apparently, Andrews Construction is still profiting from being partnered with Hiram Lodge._ Walking the streets of Riverdale after lunch at this new deli Veronica had wanted to try, for the first time in her life, Betty Cooper felt on par with Veronica Lodge. Both wearing black heels, Betty in her dark black jeans and black blouse, Veronica in her dark purple dress, she didn’t look like the sad girl in pastel colors that Veronica felt bad for. It hadn’t been like that in high school- Betty wasn’t some project Veronica had taken under her wing, no make-over montage from a 90’s chick flick. Somehow, Veronica had some influence on Betty while in high school, because she had flourished at design school. She had found her little niche in the world, her piece of happiness. She had made this life for her and Abigail in LA, but being here, made her see all that she had missed by being away from her friends. 

“Veronica. You said earlier that I had the life you wanted, the life you would have had if you left. But I’m starting to think that you have the life I want, the life I would have had if I stayed.” Veronica grabbed her hand and looked at her and stopped her in her tracks.

“Betty, you’re old enough to know now that your life can be whatever you want. Where ever you want, with whoever you want. I will always stand by your side and be supportive. We better grab something to cook for dinner, Archie might get mad if we have take-out two nights in a row.” 

After stopping by the grocery store and grabbing some chicken to grill, the girls made their way make towards the Andrews’ house. Betty felt her heart quicken when she saw Jughead’s truck was parked in front of the house. 

“Betty. You need to talk to them. Both of them.” Veronica said, squeezing Betty’s hand one more time before they entered the house. She knew she was right, and she knew the longer she delayed those conversations, the harder they would be. 

-

 

Jughead fiddled with the radio in his truck, unsure what to listen to, where to start the conversation. He finally settled on a 90’s rock station, and he felt a swell of pride when he noticed Abigail was humming along. “Your mom said you like to read and listen to vinyl, so I figured we’d head a few towns over and check out this library, and a record store?”

“That’d be fun. Something about the smell of books always reminds me of my childhood, mom used to take me to these readings with her at the library every Tuesday.” 

He looked over at her, seeing so much of Betty in her. She was poised and soft spoken, but she seemed worldlier and cultured than the Betty he used to know. Of course, she was, Betty spent her whole life in Riverdale, Abigail had grown up in one of the biggest cities in the world. 

It didn’t take long to reach Macon, and they headed straight to the library. He was thankful to see that she avoided the young adult section, avoided the romance section, and headed for the mystery section. He searched the shelves for a moment before finding it, pulling it down and handing it over to her. “This is what I do when I’m not working at the bar. I have another one coming out, in the next year or so, I just sent the final draft to my publisher last week.” He watched as her eyes scanned the cover- _Bloody River- J Jones III._

“This is amazing. Why the initials though?”

“I’m not too fond of my real name, I’m named after my dad and he’s not exactly role-model material, but my agent said Jughead might get me over looked by some bigger name literary houses, so we came up with a compromise.” He watched her, as she carried the book up to the counter to check out and felt a sense of nervousness come over him at the prospect of her reading his novel. 

As they left the library and walked down the street, he continued his story. “My legal name is Forsythe Pendleton Jones III, but my dad started calling me Jughead when I was a baby, and it kind of stuck. My dad goes by FP, that’s who your mom and I were talking about this morning. He’s never been an ideal parent, even when I was growing up. My mom left with my sister and moved to Toledo when I was 13, and I stayed with Archie and his dad, Fred, for most of high school. My dad was an alcoholic, and always put the club and drinking before his family. I didn’t want to be anything like him growing up, I had plans to go to NYU and study journalism, or follow your mom to California, but the events in the novel happened and I wasn’t able to leave. I let myself fall down this hole, falling in with the club and drinking too much. I became so much like the person I had hated most of my life. And then you showed up, making me exactly like my father.” 

“That’s a lot of information all at once. I don’t really have a ‘grandpa’ in the usual sense, Grandpa Hal lives in New York, I don’t see him much, but mom stays with him she when she’s in the city.”

“They got divorced when we were in high school, Alice and Hal. It tore your mom up, there was a lot that happened between your grandpa and Polly when she found out she was pregnant. This book, read it. But know that a lot of it impacted your family, both of your families. There are parts of Riverdale that are far from ideal.” He glanced into the window of the record store, aware that he was throwing a lot of heavy information at her.

“Favorite record?” He said, changing the subject as he pushed the door open.

-

 

Abigail had to admit, the day had been awkward and great at the same time, but she was thankful her mom was back. She needed to talk to her, even just to get a break from these people she barely knew. 

“Mom, can we go for a walk while we wait for dinner? Show me around your old neighborhood?” 

“Sure, let me go change out of these heels."

The walk was nice, the street was quiet, the air felt cool. LA was hot and loud, Riverdale was calm and relaxing. Abigail marveled at the houses that lined the street, a sense of community and normalcy she felt LA didn’t always have. She walked in silence with her mother for a minute, before she finally spoke. 

“He seems nice. I’m thankful I inherited his sarcasm. Did you know he writes novels?” 

“He is nice. He wasn’t ever a bad person, we were just young, and he was impulsive. And I’m not surprised that he’s a writer, he’s amazing. It was what brought us together in the first place.” There’s more than that, she could see it when the street lights shone on her mother’s face.

“Mom. Why did you really leave?”

“Abigail.”

“Mom. I need to know. Being here, I see how different you were, how different you are when you’re here. You’re calmer, and I swear I saw you smile at dinner last night. I need to know what made you leave, what made you not ever want to come back.”

“Abigail. Jughead told you last night about the night he took over as vice-president of the Serpents. But the Serpents then weren’t what they are today. They’d been involved in drug trafficking, mostly cocaine and heroin, a few of them had done time for murder, aggravated assault, armed robbery. They weren’t a good group of people, they lived a rough lifestyle. I couldn’t see Jughead fitting in with that, but when I watched him slip on that jacket, I saw him becoming everything I hated. I told him I couldn’t live that life, I couldn’t accept him as a Serpent, and he told me I had two choices, stay and accept it, or leave. I thought it was just a fight, I didn’t sleep that night. I made up my mind that the next morning, I would go to the Whyte Worm, which is the bar on the southside of town that the Serpents use as their clubhouse, Jughead has an office there. I walked in and saw something that changed everything for me. He had been my entire world for 2 years but he was so much more than my boyfriend- he had been my best friend for as long as I could remember. But standing there, I felt like I saw him for the first time, and he was not someone I knew anymore. I ran. I didn’t want an explanation, I didn’t want an excuse. I wanted to leave. I wanted to be as far away from Riverdale and the perfect Betty Cooper as I could be. Somewhere over Kansas, I took my hair out of my ponytail, burned my pink sweaters on the beach my first night in California. I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror and not see the girl he had hurt. I’ve avoided this place all these years, because I still couldn’t face the way he broke me. Everything I was, everything I thought I wanted, cracked in that one, single moment.”

Somewhere along the way, Abigail and her mother had stopped walking. She looked up into her mother’s face and saw the pain and tears that she’d been hiding for years. 

“Mom. I think I’d like to stay here for a little longer. Get to know Jughead more, spend more time with Veronica. I feel like there’s a whole part of me that’s in Riverdale, that I’ve never gotten to know.” She glanced up to meet her mother’s eyes, surprised to find tears welling in the corners. 

“Abigail. I want you to be careful. I want you to be safe. But more than anything, I want you to be happy, I want you to live an amazing life. If staying here is what you want, then we’ll stay. Truthfully, I think it’d be best for me too, there’s a lot here I’ve pushed aside for 18 years, a lot I need to face.”

“Mom.” She said, as she reached out to grab her hand, “I think this will be good, for both of us.”

“We need to get back before Veronica panics about us missing dinner and sends Sheriff Keller out to look for us.” She looked up at her mother’s face, feeling like she was hiding something, protecting her from something. She wasn’t sure yet what it was, but everyone seemed to keep mentioning to her a darker side of Riverdale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry if this comes across as information overload. I think I've rewrote this three or four times, and I'm still not sure how I feel about it. 
> 
> Thanks for all of the love, comments and kudos!
> 
> follow me on tumblr @theonlyemmaleigh


	6. The Butterflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They'd been skating around each other all week, stolen glances and hidden feelings. Maybe it was something about this town, that made her feel this way.

The buzzing of her phone sitting on the bedside table, let her know he was already here. She twisted her hair up into a knot, tugging on the hem of her short, pink sun dress. A quick glance out the window, she noticed his tan Jeep without the top on, idling in the driveway. She grabbed her bag she’d packed the night before, leaving a note on the dining room table, before slipping out the front door and into the early dawn light. 

-

 

His body ached as he stretched his legs, the feeling returning to his arm slowly. The sun beating in through the large front doors and the smell of fresh coffee had pulled him from his sleep. It took him a brief moment to remember where he was- the small house in downtown Riverdale that Betty had found to rent for the summer. It’d only been a week since she’d blown into town and upended his life, but they’d settled into a little routine together. Most days were spent with Veronica and Abigail, being joined later in the afternoon by Archie and Charlie after they were finished with work or football training. They rotated houses for dinners, giving him a weird sense of familiar nostalgia. How things would have always been if she would have stayed, if her and Abigail had been here all along. Betty had written to her editors earlier in the week and had worked out some sort of deal that allowed her to work primarily from home, under the stipulation that she’d spend one week a month in New York at the east coast office to help format the next issue before it went to print. 

He swung his feet down, feeling the cool of the hard wood flooring through his socks. As had become the usual, Hot Dog had once again betrayed him, choosing to sleep in the bedroom with Betty rather than on the floor beside him. _So much for being loyal._

Stepping quietly down the hallway, he walked into the kitchen and the sight of her made him stop in his tracks. Her previously all dark wardrobe had been replaced today, a pair of white shorts showcasing her long legs, a pale lavender tank top accenting her toned arms. She still managed to take his breath away, her long blonde hair curling and waving down her back. He leaned against the doorframe, but she still didn’t turn away from the stove, and he suddenly became aware that since the first time she walked back into his life, they were completely alone. He wanted to wrap his hands around her waist, throw her up against the counter, run his fingers through her hair and smash his lips on hers. He started to move towards her and was caught off guard when she turned around.

“Jug- I didn’t hear you wake up!” He watched as a smile smeared across her face, that smile that haunted his dreams and sent chills down his spine. “Coffee? 10 creams, 10 sugars, right?” She handed him a cup, as he struggled to find his bearings. 

“Morning, Bets. Thanks for the coffee.” 

“I guess it’s just us today, Charlie took Abigail with him and his friends to the river.”

“You really think that’s the best idea? Letting our daughter go to the river with a bunch of football players?” 

“Well, she’s with Charlie, she’ll be fine. Besides, I thought it’d be nice to have a day just you and I.”

His heart stopped. He had gotten used to being around Betty again, but they were always supervised by Veronica and Archie or Abigail. An entire day with just the two of them, he wasn’t sure he was ready for that.

“Listen, Jug.” She closed the distance between them, standing right in front of him. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you to tell you about Abigail earlier. I’m sorry I robbed you of her growing up, she’s so amazing. I kept this image of who you became in my head, and I didn’t want her around that.”

“Betty, you need to stop blaming yourself for the choice you made. I’m not saying I agree with it, or that things would have played out any differently than they did, but you made a choice, and there’s nothing that can change it now.” He touched her arm gently, and reached up and grasped her chin, bringing her eyes up to meet his, and he was surprised to see tears. He reached up to wipe them away, when he heard the front door open.

“Oh. I’m so sorry. Are we interrupting a moment?” _Yes, Veronica, you are. Now leave._ “We figured since the kids were away for the day, that the four of us could spend the day together. I brought wine coolers and cornhole!” _So much for a day alone._

-  
Veronica had also brought with her stacks of pictures and yearbooks, and they spent the better half of the morning laughing and reminiscing. Betty felt hyperaware of how close Jughead was sitting next to her, his knee touching hers under the kitchen table. She tried to brush her thoughts aside, but she kept seeing him leaning against the doorway this morning, his dark grey shirt pulled tight across his arms. She felt content in their little routine, her and Jughead’s. He had a house on the outside of town, but she had insisted on him staying with her, she thought it’d be good for him and Abigail. He slept on the couch each night, and somehow even just having him so close to her had brought a sense of calm she hadn’t felt in years. 

“Look at this one! That was such a fun day!” Veronica squealed as she passed around a photo. _A day at the river_ read the back of it. They had loaded up FP’s truck with coolers and lunch and driven down to Sweetwater River and spent the day drinking and swimming. They’re faces were red from the sun, hair a mess from the wind. Betty smiled as she looked at the photo, remembering the smell of the water and the grass that day. It had been a good day. She remembered sneaking off into the woods with Jughead, the feeling of his hands running over her wet suit, the possibility of being caught by their friends giving them a sense of urgency, the feel of the bark on her back as he thrust into her.

“I need a cigarette. Veronica?” His voice startled her, and she felt his hand grip her knee, before she looked up to meet his eyes. _He remembered too._

“Yes please!” Betty watched as Veronica and Jughead slipped outside to her back deck, leaving her and Archie alone for the first time since she’d been back. She remembered what Veronica had said the other night, that she needed to talk to them both. 

Archie Andrews had been Betty’s best friend growing up, the boy next door. For most of her childhood, she had thought she and Archie would end up together, but their sophomore year, her and Jughead began spending more time together working on the Blue and Gold student newspaper and working on the mystery that was Jason Blossom’s death. Her relationship with Jughead changed the dynamic she’d had with Archie, but they still stayed close through high school. 

“Archie.” She turned to look up at him, he’d moved into the kitchen to grab a water. “We need to talk.”

“Betty, I don’t really know what to say. I’m glad to see you, but I’m not like Jughead and Veronica, welcoming you back with open arms. You left us. All of us, and now you show up out of nowhere and expect things to be the way they were? Not a phone call, a text, nothing. You just left.”

“Archie, please. There’s a lot that happened that you don’t know about. Something happened between Jug and I, and I couldn’t stay here, everything was a reminder of what he had done. You. Veronica. I knew if I told you I was leaving, you’d try to stop me, try to convince me to stay and work things out with him. When I found out I was pregnant, I wanted so much to call you, to call Veronica. I needed my friends, but I knew if I told either of you, that Jughead would find out. I didn’t want to keep her from him, but he was a completely different person then, Arch, you know that. He was so much like his father it was scary, and I didn’t want her to grow up like he had. So, I made a choice for her, for me, that I thought was the best.”

“Betty, whatever happened, whatever he did, whatever choice he made. Was it really so bad that you had to leave, and push us all away, treating us like we never existed?” She watched, as he leaned back against the counter, arms folded across his chest. 

“Archie, it was never like that. I’ve lived every day since I left wondering if I made the right choice…” The back door opened again, and she looked up with tears in her eyes to see Veronica and Jughead came back in. His eyes caught hers, and he stepped across the kitchen and pulled her into him. She held on to him, breathing in that haunting scent of soap and cigarettes. Everything she had been feeling, the regret, the pain, the confusion, seemed to melt away in his arms as he held her, so openly in front of Veronica and Archie, silently letting them know that he stood by her in the decision she had made. 

_

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, however tense things with Archie were. Frisbee with Hotdog in the backyard, grilling chicken kabobs for dinner, Betty and Veronica drinking sangria on the back porch- the day was relaxing and happily spent. 

It was late, almost 11, she was busying herself doing dishes in the kitchen, wiping down the counters and cleaning off the table, while Veronica finished off the last of her glass of red wine. The TV hummed softly in the background, the sounds of the baseball game competing with Archie’s soft snores. A flicker of light from the living room window caught her eye, a flash of red and blue. The wine glass she was holding shattered in the sink as it slipped from her hand, seeming to awake the whole house. 

She walked quickly through the living room towards the front door. The noise of glass breaking and the flash of lights had pulled Jughead off of the couch, and he moved to meet her at the door, his hand firm on the small of her back. Before the car door shut, she found herself standing on the front porch, her palms curling instinctively into her palms.

-

 

Her skin felt tight and itchy, already feeling the effects of forgetting to reapply her sunscreen after their late afternoon swim in Sweetwater River. There was something different about today, she felt carefree, but like she was sitting on the edge of something life changing. Maybe that life changing thing was in the form of the tall, brown eyed boy who had filled her day with laughter and side pokes, this boy that would have been a lifelong friend had her mother never left. He'd spent the week trying to include her with his friends, but she always felt like she was an art exhibit on display. They'd all heard stories from their parents about her mother, which made her feel like her mother was an entirely different person when she was younger. These people, this town, held her mother in such high esteem, under the watchful eye of these small-town girls she felt like she didn't measure up to their expectations.

Maybe he was sensing her anxiety, or maybe he was tired of vying for her attention, but when he suggested taking a ride in his Jeep after everyone else started to part ways, she felt anxious for an entirely different reason. They'd been skating around each other all week, stolen glances and hidden feelings. Maybe it was something about this town, that made her feel this way. She saw it in the way her mother laughed at Jughead’s jokes, the way he rustled her hair when she walked by. She saw it in the way Veronica slipped a note into Archie's lunch each morning, the way he tickled her side. Her eyes darted over to him, taking in his silhouette in the moonlight. Maybe this moment, him, was really what had pulled her to Riverdale.

He turned the Jeep down a hidden access road, and her body jolted, crashing into his arm. An electric shock ran through her when he shifted one hand off the steering wheel to hold hers, her heart rate quickening. She had dated boys in California, dates to high school dances and late-night movies, but none that gave her butterflies with a look like he did.

The Jeep careened down the gravel road, bouncing along until they arrived at a clearing, an old abandoned airstrip. He pulled the Jeep up onto the cracked pavement. When she heard the click of his seat belt unfastening, she felt her body begin to panic. He had driven her out here, alone in the woods, and she suddenly felt unsure of herself. He leaned over, tugging on the hand he still held, helping her out of the seat and settling her up on the top bar, her feet dangling down onto the passenger seat. She felt her body sway and leaned closer into his side. His arm wrapped around her, pulling her into him and helping to keep her balanced.

"I wonder if it was like this for them in the beginning..." She hadn't realized she'd spoken out loud until he turned to her, his dark eyes locking on hers.

"For our parents?"

"Yeah. Did they have to escape away in the middle of the night, butterflies in their stomachs worried about getting caught?" Her cheeks blushed, realizing the words that had fallen from her mouth.

"Butterflies, huh?" He leaned in closer to her, a half smirk on his face, his lips so close to hers she could barely see it. Softly, his lips grazed against hers, and she felt herself melting more into his side.

"Butterflies." She whispered against his mouth, before kissing him again. His hand reached for her chin, tilting her head to the side and deepening their kiss. She felt his tongue slip out to push into hers, but the sound of tires on gravel pulled her away from him. His face was terrified and regretful all at once, twisting from a smirk into a frown.

"I'm so sorry. Just do what he says, it'll be fine. I promise."

The car slowed as it entered the clearing, red and blue lights illuminating the night. Fuck. If she had ever thought about being arrested for trespassing, she would have imagined it being for climbing to the Hollywood sign, not ever for trespassing at an old airstrip in some small town in New York. The car stopped a few feet behind the Jeep, the night silent except for the blinding lights as Charlie helped her down from the Jeep. "Just stay here." He whispered softly as he stepped away, back towards the cop car.

"Mr. Andrews. We meet again." The cops voice was sharp, breaking into the night and her heart, thoughts of other girls he'd brought here alone.

"Evening, Boyce. Another boring night in Riverdale?"

"Listen kid, I told you last time, I find you out here again, I'm taking you in." She stepped from the side of the Jeep, around towards the back, and immediately froze when she realized, the cop hadn't noticed her before. She thought briefly of running for the woods, but out here, where she didn't know where she really was, she could be lost for days. "Not alone this time, that's a change. Ma'am, can you step over here please? I'm going to need to see some ID."

Her heart rate was racing as she stepped towards him, and she watched as his eyes darted over her face, over her license. He walked back, closer to his car, but his voice still echoed in the silence as he called out on his radio.

"Keller. This is Boyce. I've got the Andrew's boy down at the airfield again, but you're going to want to come out here. He's not alone."

The voice on the other end was firm and controlling, directing this Boyce to keep them in the car until he arrived. Tears streamed freely down her face as she sat in the backseat of the patrol car, unsure of how this night would end. His hand reached out to touch hers, but she pulled it away, turning her head and her body towards the window. All of her butterflies had been replaced with flutters of panic, terrified about what her mother would say when she got the call to pick her up from the station.

About a half hour she sat like that, her body forcefully twisted, until finally, another car entered the clearing. She watched as the other officer joined the first, a muffled conversation held outside of the patrol car, hands gestured, angered looks, and then. The first officer pulled open the door on her side first, gesturing angrily before speaking. 

“Out. You’ll both be going with Sheriff Keller.” For the first time, she took in the new officer that stood before her, tall with a strong build, there was no kindness in his face. 

“Andrews. Cooper. Let’s go.” He opened the door to the back seat of his patrol car, letting them settle into the new backseat before sliding into the front himself. She sat still, her arms wrapped tight around her chest, tears streaming down her face, but when she glanced over at the tall male sitting next to her, his face was contorted in a smirk, almost a hint of laughter behind his eyes.

“You really think this is funny, don’t you?” Her voice came out scratchy and shaky, the sound of it pulling his eyes to look over at her. 

“Well, you’ll find out why soon enough.” 

Sheriff Keller drove the car in silence back through the woods, back down the gravel access road. He turned the car towards town, driving it past Pop’s Choc’Lit Shoppe and past the high school, but when he continued past the police station, she felt a sense of anxiety wash over her, nervousness about where this was possibly going. The car continued on, turning left at a familiar light, before pulling to a stop in front of a small white house. The lights flashed in the window, and again, her attention was drawn to the brown-haired boy sitting next to her. 

She watched, in stunned silence as her mother tore through the front door, followed closely behind by Jughead. Sheriff Keller stepped from the car first, leaving them alone in the backseat. Without hearing the words that were said, she watched as her mother first shoved Sherriff Keller, before wrapping her arms around him, placing a quick kiss on his cheek. 

“You knew? This whole time?” She let out an exasperated sigh, watching the scene unfold before her. Jughead clapping Sheriff Keller on the back, Archie and Veronica stepping out to the front porch, smiles on their faces. “You knew our parents know Sheriff Keller?”

“He’s a little bit more than just Sheriff Keller.” 

The rear passenger door was pulled open, and a hand reached in to help her out. She slid from the back seat, and stood back, staring up into the face of this Sheriff Keller. His eyes were misty, but a smile had appeared across his face. 

“I knew who you were the second I pulled up and saw you. Welcome home, kid.” Her mother had now joined him, her hand firmly linked under his arm, her head resting comfortably on his shoulder. 

“Abigail- I’d like you to meet Kevin Keller.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of the love, comments and kudos! I struggled so hard writing this chapter, and not only because my computer didn't save my first draft, so I apologize for the delay!
> 
> you can find me on tumblr @theonlyemmaleigh


	7. The Resolve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She had cried her tears the night before, her eyes red and puffy until she had nothing left but resolve. She couldn’t let this be their end

Sheriff Keller had stayed until well after 2AM, another full pot of coffee shared amongst the group of friends. The small house was filled with laughter and old stories once again, and it filled her with that feeling once again, of the way things would have always been. She wasn’t sure when she had fallen asleep, but the sun was beating in strongly through her bedroom window, and when she stretched her feet, she was not met with the firm resistance that was Hot Dog. The clock by her bedside let her know she’d slept well past noon, the latest she’d slept in years, if ever. Her house was quiet- not soft whispers, no patter of dog feet on the hard wood. She snuck quietly out to the kitchen, where on the counter, she found the reason for her quiet house. 

_Bets-_  
I need to spend a few days at the clubhouse, there’s some things I need to take care of. You know where to find me if you need me. I’ll see you on Monday.  
-J 

Her heart sank a bit, reading and re-reading his note. She’d gotten so accustomed to his presence in her life again, sleeping on her couch, Hot Dog at her feet, coffee every morning- he’d slipped right back into being a constant in her life over the last few days. She’d almost forgotten that he was technically the president of a motorcycle club. There were probably bills to pay, paperwork to process and deals to tend to. She tried to remind herself that it was only a few days, and only across town, that maybe a few days apart would be good for them. There was still that ever looming, unspoken incident, that they both seemed to be skirting around. She had so easily let him into Abigail’s life, but if she was going to truly let him back into hers, there were still answers she needed.  
_  
That morning was ingrained in her brain, repeating the memory over and over again. The sun had been bright, already the humidity hanging heavily in the air. August in Riverdale was always hot, and today was looking to be a record breaker. She had cried her tears the night before, her eyes red and puffy until she had nothing left but resolve. She couldn’t let this be their end, she wouldn’t let him fall in so deep with the Serpents. No. He didn’t have a choice anymore, he wasn’t staying here. She didn’t care that they would struggle, only that they would be together. Whatever life threw at them, they’d face together, hand in hand. They just needed to get out of this town, it was suffocating them and pulling them down, trying to drown them both. California would be a new start for both of them, they could be or do anything they wanted, so long as they were together._

_She pushed her way through the door, the bar was quiet, there were no patrons, just the bartender wiping glasses behind the bar. Her feet stuck to the tile, trash and left-over remnants of the night before scattered throughout the bar. She didn’t know the bartenders name, but he nodded at her as she walked past the bar, down the hallway that lead to the offices. She knew he often stayed the night here, on those nights that he didn’t crawl through her bedroom window, and she knew this was where he had stayed the night before._

_She didn’t knock, she never knocked. She felt as comfortable in this room as she did his room at the trailer, it was his space and he had so openly let her into it. Her hand twisted on the door handle, pushing the door open slowly. He wasn’t alone in his office. He wasn’t wearing his beanie, and he seemed to have forgotten his shirt as well. But it was the tiny girl with pink in her hair, her legs intertwined with his, fingers in his hair, lips dancing with his, that really caught her attention.  
She couldn’t remember what she screamed, if it was a profanity, his name, or just a loud screech or a combination of all the above. She didn’t stay to catch his head whip around towards her. Just as quickly as she had entered, she slammed the door, not hearing it reopen behind her. She rushed back past the bartender, back out the front door and into the early morning light. She didn’t slow at all as she started up her car, pulling out of the parking lot at record speed. The only thing she did catch, was in the rearview mirror, a tall shirtless man with jet black hair, chasing after her car. _

She poured herself a cup of coffee, and started taking stock of the refrigerator, writing out a grocery list, when she heard the ping of an email arriving on her phone. Work. In all of the bustle and craziness of the last week, she’d nearly forgotten that part of her deal, part of the reason why she was able to stay here, was under the promise that she’d work from home. The email contained a link to an article written by her assistant, an article on pencil skirts for everyday wear. Betty had tasked her assistant with creating a few articles, mostly fluff pieces, to cover some pages since Betty wouldn’t have time to produce some bigger pieces for next month’s magazine. Maria did good work, she was smart, young, and eager to take everything Betty threw her way. Sometimes, Betty was surprised that Maria was still at the magazine and hadn’t moved on to one of the bigger fashion houses yet, the girl had a lot to offer. Her phone pinged one more time, looking down to see a text from Maria, informing her she’d sent over the email. 

**B-** Just got the email. I'll look over it this afternoon and send you some changes **M-** Thanks boss! Tell me about home! How’s Riverdale’s Sons of Anarchy? Still a dark haired Jax? _Oh geez._ Betty had forgotten she’d told Maria a little bit about Jughead one night over too many martinis. 

**B-** It’s so weird being back here. So much is the same still, but everything is different. I can’t explain it. 

**M-** Annette and Shelly started an office pool to guess when you’ll be back, or if you’ll be back at all. I said you’d be back in October, I don’t think you’ll leave right after Abigail goes to school. 

**B-** Add my name to the pool, I’ll be back in September. 

“You want to tell me where you’ve been this week, Jughead? And if the answer has anything to do with that blonde that walked in here on Monday I will slap you so hard across the head, boy.” His dad was furious when he walked back into the Whyte Worm on Saturday morning. FP had quite a temper, and not being able to drink because of his medication had only made things worse. 

“Dad, it’s fine. I’m a grown man. I can handle things.” 

“Yeah, just like you handled them last time. Son- that girl is bad news.” 

“Dad, I don’t need this right now. I’ve got work to do.” 

“See kid, she’s already messing with your mind. There’s cash on your desk for you.” 

He spent most of the afternoon counting deposits, checking inventory, ordering stock for the bar, working out the details for the ride to Richmond. He left the payroll to process tomorrow, the bar was always quiet on Sunday mornings so he wouldn’t have a lot of customers. It was late evening when he finally headed back to his house. Hot Dog, was happy to see him home. When he climbed into his bed, he thought that Betty Cooper’s couch was much more comfortable. 

_  
Betty spent the rest of Saturday and Sunday putting the house together, making another trip to Target for some throw pillows, and working on pieces for the magazine. Sunday night found Abigail back over at the Andrews, and Betty up to her nose in bubbles in her bathtub. Her mind was reeling. She hadn’t heard from Jughead since he left Saturday morning, she didn’t even have his number to call him or text him. She knew she shouldn’t be missing him the way she was, he had a life here, friends, maybe a girlfriend. She hadn’t come back here for him, she’d came back only to protect Abigail. But being here, she was starting to think that maybe it wasn’t Abigail that needed to be protected, but her. Everything she had ran from, everything she had left behind, was still right here, waiting for her to face it, waiting for her to make a decision. She laid there, letting the warm water soak over her, flipping thru her Pandora for sappy country love songs. She grabbed her wine and closed her eyes, letting the words float over her.

_M-I told you I wouldn’t call, I told you I wouldn’t care_  
But baby climbing the walls gets me nowhere  
I don’t think I can take this bed getting any colder  
Come over, come over, come over, come over, come over 

-

He used the key she had given him and stepped inside without knocking. The car was gone, so he assumed Abigail was at the Andrews. He hadn’t planned on stopping over tonight, but he’d gone 2 days without seeing her face and he wasn’t sure if he’d survive until the morning. He walked thru the living room, into the kitchen, Hot Dogs soft paws pattering across the tile. No Betty. He was just turning to leave when he heard her soft voice from the bathroom. _She was singing._

_You can say we’re done the way you always do_  
It’s easier to lie to me than to yourself  
Forget about your friends, you know they’re gonna say  
We’re bad for each other, but we ain’t good for anyone else 

He sat on the couch, and listened to her voice come from the bathroom, feeling like she was singing just for him. 

**_**

Betty stepped out of the bath, and wrapped herself up in a robe, her face flush from the wine and the heat of the water. She brushed her teeth and brushed her hair, twisting it up into a knot at the top of her head. She stepped out of the bathroom, and almost tripped over the large dog that was eagerly greeting her at the door. Her heart started racing. _He’s here._

“Hello Hot Dog! I missed you! Did you miss me!” She knelt down to nuzzle the large dog, his tail thumping and whacking the floor. 

“He’s not the only one that missed you.” She turned around, and even though she knew he was here, she still found herself gasping for breath at the sight of him. His tall frame leaned against the doorway. Dark jeans and a t-shirt was apparently all it took to make her melt. She knew she had missed seeing him this weekend, but she hadn’t realized how much until she saw his face. She stepped across the floor and found herself wrapped up in his arms. Somewhere over the course of the weekend, she’d lost all will to fight him. When he ran his hand down her back and grabbed her waist, she pressed into him closer. When his hand traced her face, she lifted her eyes to meet his. When he grabbed her chin to pull her closer, she traced circles on his back with her hand. When his lips found hers, she sighed and fell into his arms more, running her fingers up to his hair and pulling him closer. 

“Uhh, mom. Jughead. I’m back.” She heard Abigail’s soft voice and heard her close the door. _Oh my goodness._ “I’m going to go up to bed, you guys have a good night.’ Betty blushed and laughed against Jughead’s chest, and then looked up to meet his eyes.

“Are you hungry? Want some coffee? I think there’s something we need to talk about.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eeeek! You guys are so amazing! Thank you for all of the love, comments, kudos and reblogs. I so very much appreciate it! And please don't hate me too much, Jughead's side of the story is coming very soon!
> 
> The song mentioned in this chapter is Come Over by Sam Hunt. I strongly recommend listening to his acoustic album 
> 
> follow me on tumblr @theonlyemmaleigh


	8. The Whole Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She could feel her heart falling, her eyes darting across his face as she struggled to take in the words he had said. Years of heartbreak felt like they were hitting her all over again, all at once. Her breath caught in her throat, her fingers curling into her palms. The air in the kitchen was suffocating, she needed to get away, needed to breath.

There are certain moments he knew in his lifetime, that he would never forget. The smell of her lavender shampoo, the feel of the small of her back under his hand, the softness of her lips when they finally found his again after all these years. He followed behind her like a lost puppy as she pulled his hand down the hallway, towards the kitchen. She started the pot of coffee, before slipping away to her bedroom, coming back moments later wearing a pair of sinful black leggings and a dark grey long-sleeve t-shirt, her wet hair twisted up into a knot at the top of her head. She looked so beautiful, pouring a mug of fresh coffee and sliding it across the counter towards him, that all he wanted to do was kiss her lips again. 

Her eyes didn’t look up to meet his, didn’t dance and sparkle like they had only moments earlier, and he knew it was coming. That conversation they’d been avoiding, that elephant that had been stomping around the room after them. He should have followed her; he should have chased her down until she stopped running, made her understand, and made her see. But he’d let her go, let her leave for California and live the next 19 years of her life with whatever idea of what she saw in her head. For that, he knew he was at fault. Instinctively, he ran his fingers through his hair, tugging on locks that had long ago been cut short, his head falling into his hands. 

“Betty.” His voice cracked when he broke through the silence.

“Jug. I didn’t want your excuses then, and I don’t need them now. But if this is going to work, between you and Abigail, and you’re going to be back in our lives, I need to know. I need to know what really happened that morning.”

_He stretched his limbs, his feet hitting the hard sides of the couch in his office. Most of the night before had been spent internally debating if she was really gone, if they were really done. The look on her face, the tears falling down her cheeks as he told her he’d never choose her over the Serpents, was something he would never get out of his nightmares. He couldn’t breathe without her, didn’t know how to be without her by his side. The pang in his heart felt vaguely like when his mother left, but this felt different, worse. When his mom had left, she had been there to hold him; reassuring him it would all be ok, that she would never leave him too. Until she did. All the plans that they had made together, everything they had dreamed of having and doing, were gone when he shouted those words he couldn’t take back. How much he wanted to take them back the instant they had fallen from his lips. He would never be able to retract them, make her unhear them, but knowing that she had believed him hurt the most.  
He struggled to open his eyes, not wanting to face the reality that she was gone, but, the pounding in his head was too strong, and the pounding on the door wasn’t letting up._

_“Fuck off, Dad.” Although he tried to yell, his voice came out scratchy and broken, useless in making his point made._

_“Jug, let me in.” The soft female voice was not the voice he wanted to hear, but he figured it was better than facing his father this early in the morning._

_He staggered to the door, swinging it open and turning back around to collapse back into the couch, his head cradled in his hands._

_“She’s gone. She’s gone.” His voice faded away, lost in the tears that he couldn’t fight anymore._

_“Take your shirt off.”_

_“What the fuck, Toni.”_

_“Seriously, Jug. Your shirt. That’s where you said you wanted it, right. It’ll make the pain go away.” His eyes glanced up at the tiny dark skinned girl with pink hair, that had somehow weaseled her way into his life, into his close knit group of people he guessed were his friends. They’d written together briefly for the student newspaper when he went to school at Southside High, and because of the Serpents, they’d stayed close when he transferred back to Riverdale High. Despite their drastic differences, an odd friendship had developed between Toni and that girl that had left him; he couldn’t even think her name._

_He had forgotten she was coming by this morning, until he took in the small bag she held in her hands- Toni was also the Serpents resident tattoo artist. They’d long ago mapped out and planned his tattoo, and in his drunken state last night after that blonde had left him, he’d decided today was the perfect day. If she was gone, if he was choosing the Serpents over her, than this was it, he was all in._

_She was right; the pain of the tattoo helped distract him from the pain of her leaving him. Only an hour after he’d been woken up, she was packing up her small case of tools. Everything cleaned and put away, she stepped back closer towards him, a chill running down his spine as she placed her small hands across his chest, fingers trailing across the perfect snake she had just inked into his skin directly over his heart. The standard Serpent, he’d had her include a little crown to match the beanie he always wore, two little initials etched into the tail of the snake._

_Her small body moved closer to his, her dark brown eyes flitting up to stare into his. “I can make the pain go away too...”_

_He’s hands found a place on her waist, pulling her even closer into his chest. He knew this was wrong, she felt all wrong in his hands, but there was desperation and longing that came with the feeling of abandonment and heartbreak that had become his new best friends in last 12 hours. She had left, ripping into his skin and tearing his heart out, and this girl in front of him, maybe she could be a Band-Aid, sealing the wound over with a Serpent tattoo.  
His lips had just barely grazed hers, her fingers just barely intertwined in his hair when he heard it. It came all at once, the scream, his name and the **‘fuck’**. He spun around so fast; he missed the smirk that had appeared on the face of the pink haired girl, only catching a spray of blonde hair as she turned around the corner, back down the hallway and away from his office. _

_His body felt weak, his head still pounding, but instinct told him to run. Down the hallway, past the bar, out into the parking lot, out into the road. She was faster than he had been, his knees buckled under him, pulling him into the gravel and dust that was still spinning in the air from her car tearing off down the road. She was gone._

“It was never more than that, Betts. A tattoo and a kiss.” His hands reached across the kitchen island, wanting to touch her, to hold her, but her hands recoiled in towards her chest. 

“It’s never just a tattoo and a kiss, Jug. Don’t downplay this. The two of you were skirting around each other for years, so much the same it hurt me sometimes, to see you two together. Anyone else and I could have thought about forgiving you, but her? Why her?” 

“The truth, Betts?” He didn’t mean it, he didn’t mean for his voice to catch, the start of that rage feeling he was so unfamiliar with. He couldn’t be mad at her, not now, not after all these years, not when she was so close to finally knowing the truth, the whole truth.

“Well, the truth seems like a good place to start, Jughead.” He bit his lip, trying to hold back a snide remark, but the way she said his full name, not a _Jug or Juggie_ , felt like a hit in the stomach. 

“Because my dad paid her $1,000 and made her bar manager.”

 

-

 

She could feel her heart falling, her eyes darting across his face as she struggled to take in the words he had said. Years of heartbreak felt like they were hitting her all over again, all at once. Her breath caught in her throat, her fingers curling into her palms. The air in the kitchen was suffocating, she needed to get away, needed to breath. 

“Betty.” His voice called out to her through a tunnel, but her mind barely registered the sound. “Betts..”

“I need air. I need to leave.” Her legs began to carry her down the hallway, and she heard that tunnel voice call out to her again, but she didn’t turn around.

“Betty, please. Just talk to me.” The door swung shut, and she stood in the early morning silence. The grey sky was speckled with pink, and she pulled the sweater she’d grabbed from the hook by the door tighter around her chest to ward off the light chill. She wasn’t sure where she was headed when she started walking, but she knew where she was going.

Past the high school, to the small diner that sat on the outskirts of town. She’d eaten take out from here since she’d been back, but she had yet to step inside the front doors. This place was everything she regretted leaving- memories of milkshakes after church on Sunday, his arm wrapped tight around her shoulders after a Friday night football game, her short stint into the world of waitressing. She pushed through the heavy glass door, and it was like nothing had changed. The bell above the door still chimed the same; the red leather booths still held the same cracks. She slid into a seat at the counter, looking around and taking notice that she was the only customer. A few more hours and the breakfast rush would begin, but for now, she was alone.

She sat for a moment, trying to process her thoughts on what she had just learned, when the double doors that led to the kitchen swung open, and an elderly dark skinned man stepped out, wearing the same starch white uniform and cap he always had. 

“Miss Cooper. I heard you were back in town.” She smiled up at the gentlemen who had always seemed like a grandfather figure for the town of Riverdale. “What’ll it be this morning, your usual?”

_Her usual._ A strawberry milkshake, followed by a cheeseburger with only mayonnaise and pickle, and a side of onion rings. It seemed a little too early in the morning for such a heavy meal, but a few minutes later when he placed her plate in front of her, breakfast had never smelled better. She breathed in the smell of fresh burger and deep fried onion, something that no matter how hard she’d tried, she could never forget.

She was dipping the last of her onion rings into her cup of ranch dressing, when she heard the chime ring above the door, signaling her that she was no longer alone. She didn’t need to turn around; she could feel his presence, that smell of soap and cigarettes that seemed to follow him wherever he went. He sat down silently next to her on a barstool, only a nod at the elderly man as he poured him a cup of coffee and placed it in front of him. There was a small bite of her burger left, and she slid her plate towards him, a peace-offering of a long ago tradition, - him finishing off her plate. 

“I found out about four years after you left, Toni let it slip one night during a game of pool. I didn’t know what to do at first, but about a week later I flew out to California.”

She turned slightly so she could see him; watching years of wear and pain take their place on his face. 

“You weren’t hard to track down; the school pretty easily gave up your class schedule. It was a Tuesday, I remember that. I bought you white lilies and sat on a bench outside your lecture hall for three hours waiting to see you. And then you came out, smiling and laughing with a friend. You didn’t look like the you I had known. You seemed so happy, so different. Like all the weight of the world was off your shoulders, not bogged down and stressed like you seemed sometimes here. And I realized, the closer you got to me, that I couldn’t take that from you. I couldn’t take your happiness, your chance to escape, so I left. I left the lilies sitting on the bench, and left before you even knew I was there.”

_She felt drained. Her fashion merchandising lecture was taking everything out of her, her time spent looking over sample fabrics and old fashion articles. And it didn’t help that Abigail had been asking why her daddy didn’t pick her up from pre-school like all of her friends daddies did. It was a conversation she wasn’t ready to have yet with the little three-year-old. And she was missing him. His laugh, his smell, the way his hair fell unruly in his face. Things in California were so different, she felt so lost sometimes, like she didn’t know who she was or what she was even doing here. She’d been here for almost four years now and she still felt like she was drowning. She’d been thinking recently of going back, of moving back to Riverdale. She wasn’t sure what she’d find, if she’d be welcomed back or if she’d be shunned, but she felt like she would be home at least, something she was so desperately missing here._

_She knew Monica was talking next to her, going over the lecture again, but she was only catching pieces of the conversation she was supposed to be having. She laughed when appropriate, nodding and smiling so her friend thought she was paying attention. Across the quad by a large oak tree sitting on a bench, they caught her attention and drew her in. A bouquet of white lilies that someone had left behind. She glanced around, trying to see if she could find their owner, before she picked them up, smelling them out of habit before cradling them in her arms. White lilies. They had always been her favorite, and over roses he had always bought them for her, knowing how much the star shaped flower made her smile._

_Back at her small apartment, she placed them in the only vase she had, telling Abigail that they were her favorite flower, that her daddy had always bought these for her mommy. This had led into the discussion of if her daddy had bought THESE flowers for her mommy, and how no, he hadn’t, but it was like he had sent them just for her, for his girls._

The sound of the ceramic mug tapping on the linoleum countertop pulled her from her dream and back to her reality. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell me when I first came back?”

He let out a sigh, his shoulders slipping softly. She watched as he moved he leaned his head into his hand, closing his eyes for just a moment, before letting out a deep breath.

“You didn’t come back for me, you came back to protect Abigail from me. I had to protect myself from you, because in two months, you’re still going to leave. Except this time, when you leave, you’ll know the whole truth.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she reached her hand out, twisting her fingers around his. 

“Jug, I got the flowers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me too much, I love you all so much! 
> 
> Thanks for all of the love, kudos, comments and reblogs! You all are amazing!
> 
> follow me on tumblr @theonlyemmaleigh


	9. The Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wore dark jeans with a dark tee under his flannel, and even though he was inside and it was hot out, he still had on his black leather jacket with the green snake emblem on the back. She watched as he scrutinized her face, her clothes, her hair, trying to take it all in, a menacing smirk on his face.

He let a few days pass since their kiss and their conversation at Pop’s. There was a shift in their relationship, if you could call it that. In the quiet moments of the morning, before Abigail was up and the Andrew’s family had invaded their little space, there was coffee and stolen kisses. It became their own morning ritual, the only time throughout the day that they were truly alone together. 

 

His body stretched out on the couch in her living room, the smell of coffee alerting him to her presence. 

 

“Good morning, Jug.” She slid into the room and handed him a mug, before pushing his feet over to sit beside him. He leaned up, and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. 

 

“Good morning, Juliet.” He watched her face as she became flush and a smile smeared across her face. He had forgotten how beautiful she was like this, in the early morning. Before her hair and her makeup were done, before she became the perfect Betty Cooper her parents had pushed her to be. Her hair wisped out of the bun it had been in since last night, soft blonde curls that had a mind of their own. Her pajama shirt slinked off her shoulder just slightly, and he wanted so badly to lean down and kiss her shoulder and down her collarbone. 

 

They sat in silence for a moment, her hand linked with his, until he heard the front door open, pulling them away from their little morning routine. 

 

“Good morning, Jones’!” Veronica Andrews’s voice rang out into the silence. “What’s for breakfast?” 

 

“I’m starving!” Charlie said as he pushed his way into the kitchen, grabbing a cup of coffee. 

 

“Well, good morning, Andrew’s family!” He felt Betty squeeze his hand once more, before she got up and headed into the kitchen. She didn’t miss a beat, pulling eggs and juice and sausage links from the refrigerator, bread from the counter. He got up and followed her, grabbing a pan for the eggs and refilling his coffee mug. 

 

“Let me help you.” He said, as he brushed past her in the small kitchen. He glanced up just in time to see Veronica’s eyes meet Archie’s and see her raise an eyebrow. 

 

“Oh, it smells so good in here! Mom- why don’t you cook like this always!” His heart smiled slightly, as he heard Abigail come down from upstairs. He was standing next to Archie, both leaning against the doorframe, and he watched as Abigail slid into a seat next to Charlie, and leaned over to kiss him.

 

“Did my son just…” Archie started to say, a puzzled look on his face. 

 

“Kiss my daughter…” Jughead replied, struggling to grasp what he had just seen, but as he turned to face his best friend, a smirk spread across Archie’s face, and both men laughed. 

-

 

After breakfast and lunch with the Andrew’s, a morning spent rehashing old stories, he caught just her in the kitchen, and snaked his arm around her waist. “Betty, I’ve been thinking…" He felt her sink into his grip, leaning her head back against his chest. 

 

“I know, I’ve been thinking we should too. We can’t keep avoiding him forever, he already knows I’m here, he needs to know why.” 

 

-

 

Charlie had left with his parents after lunch, a promise of a date at the drive-in that evening. She wasn’t entirely ready to forgive him yet for almost getting her arrested, but she also couldn’t resist his floppy hair and puppy dog eyes.   
When she came downstairs again after a shower, she’d caught her parents standing in the kitchen, and felt like she was invading a private moment. The way her mother leaned into him, seemed so casual and comfortable, like it was something she had done a thousand times before. Which she figured, she probably had. They had had years together before her, and the way they moved around each other was almost like they could anticipate the others movements before they happened. They had spent as many years apart as they had together, but somehow they seemed to have fallen right back into each other, right back into their routines. She didn’t know what it meant or how she felt, but she knew something else had happened between them that night she came in and caught them kissing.

 

A few hours later, she found herself in the backseat of his truck, a sick feeling in her stomach as he drove them through town, to what he referred to as the _Southside._ He stopped the truck in a parking lot, her eyes darting out the window to take notice of the large white sign that hung on the side of the building, _The Whyte Wyrm._ She wasn’t entirely sure what this place was, other than obviously a bar, but it was not giving her good vibes. 

 

She watched as he started to reach for the door handle, catching her mother as she placed a hand on his knee. Her voice was quiet as she whispered that she was coming too. He started to protest, but instead spun around to face her in the backseat. The usual playful gleam behind his eyes was gone; she was met with a stone cold glare from ice cold eyes. 

 

“You do not get out of this truck. You do not open the door for anyone or any reason. If the building catches on fire, you stay here. Under no circumstances are you to come inside. Understand?” 

 

His tone was frightening, sending a shiver down her back. “Understood.” 

 

“Good. We’ll be back in a minute.” She sat stunned, watching as both of her parents slipped out of the truck, and through the doors of the bar. 

 

_

 

She would never get over the feeling of all eyes turning to face her, every time she walked into this bar. It didn’t matter what she was wearing, if she was alone or by his side, every time she walked into the dingy darkness, she felt like she was on display. Nervously, she tugged on the hem of her black blousy tank top, but his hand pulled hers away, his fingers finding hers. A slight smile fell across her lips as she looked up to meet his eyes. He pulled her carefully through the early afternoon crowd, her heels clicking across the sticky tile as they made their way to bar. 

 

A quick glance around confirmed that the person they had come here for, wasn’t here, but behind the bar, she saw her. Her small frame was covered in a pair of denim shorts and a black tank top, a blue flannel tied around her waist. The pink was gone from her hair, instead rich brown curls fell down to her waist. Her eyes darted as she laughed, her hair swaying as she moved behind the bar. She hadn’t noticed them come in, and she wanted nothing more in that moment than to get her attention, to make her see them, together. She wanted to confront this former friend of hers, wanted to tell her about all the hatred she’d carried with her, but his hand was firm on the small of her back, and he leaned down, whispering in her ear _“she’s not worth it.”_ And she knew, although as much as she wanted to direct her anger on Toni, it’d be a waste, because there was someone else who deserved her wrath even more. 

 

His hand slid down from her back, down her arm to her hand, where he intertwined his fingers with hers, his grip firm and controlling but also comforting. He pulled her carefully behind him, away through the bar, and back out into the parking lot. 

 

-

 

It’d been maybe five minutes at most that she’d been left alone in the truck, but watching the steady stream of motorcycles and black leather jackets had made her slink into the backseat, hoping to avoid detection from the outside world. Her eyes shot up when the barroom door opened, the glass catching the sun rays and almost blinding her for just a moment, before she felt blinded by another sight. Her mother, with her arm wrapped around his, her head leaning into his shoulder. What was it about them, that drew them back to each other? 

 

They were silent as they climbed back into the car, leaving the radio off as the truck pulled from the parking lot and further south down the road. After a few minutes, the truck came to a stop in front of an old trailer. It looked like it had seen better days, the railing was sagging off the front porch, what had once been flower beds had long since been overgrown with weeds, and old lace curtains hung in the window. A shadow came across the front window, tall and looming and she felt her stomach twist. 

 

-

 

He’d decided it’d be best if she waited in the truck with Abigail, while he talked to his dad alone, and then he would bring the girls in. He was worried how his dad would respond, he hadn’t been exactly eager to hear that Jughead had been spending most of his time with Betty. Her hand squeezed his, tightening the grip that held them together, and he turned to catch her face one last time before he faced his father. He wanted to bottle up all of the calmness that she filled him with, all of the strength that she gave him, but he loosened his grip on her hand, pushing himself out into the bright afternoon. 

 

The porch creaked under his weight, and his hand wasn’t even on the door handle yet, before it was pulled open from the other side. 

 

“You brought her here? Really Jug, you need to get your head together.” 

 

“Dad.” He pushed his body past the older man, taking off the black leather jacket and tossing it on a nearby chair. “We need to have a little conversation.”

 

“About that little blonde? Or that girl I heard she’s trying to pass off as your daughter?” His body tensed, turning to fully face his father. He looked worn, the effects of his medicine had been getting the better of him, and the bags under his eyes made him wonder the last time he had had a solid night of sleep. “What, you thought I didn’t already know about her?”

 

“How’d you find out? I’ve been careful about keeping her out of the Southside.” 

 

“Jug, it’s a small town. You really believing her lies? She’s come back after 19 years telling you she’s got a kid and you just jump right back into that Cooper life, thinking this kid is yours? No way in hell, Jug. Nope. Get a test done before she demands any kind of support from you. The whore probably got some surfer dude to knock her up the second she set foot on California soil.” 

 

“FP, if you want to talk about lies, a good place to start might be your own.” Her voice growled from where she stood in front of the door. Her face was cold and resolved, her fingers curling into her palms, an old habit she’d picked up in high school. He wanted to reach out, uncurl them, kiss her palms and take away her anger, but he felt the pain that she felt. 

 

“Did you know, that when you paid off Toni to make sure I stayed away for good, you were also robbing Jughead of the chance to have the family he never had with you? Did you think that if he was happy, he’d leave you behind forever, so you took all of that away, ensuring the two of you could wallow in sorrow into old age together? What you did was weak and cowardly.”

 

It happened so fast, that even watching it; he wasn’t sure what he was seeing. At first, his dad flinched and clenched his fists, his body starting to lean forward closer towards the blonde. And then, in that same instant that he took a single step closer to her, the screen door slammed shut, and his head whipped to the side. He watched his father’s shoulders sink, watched his face wash over with recognition, and then that look of fear that so very rarely crossed his father’s face. His body sunk backwards into the recliner, his elbows landing on his knees and catching his head. 

 

A mess of brown curls entered the trailer, and when she grabbed onto Betty’s hand, he instinctively moved to place his body in front of both of them. 

 

“Shit, Jug.” Jughead knew that all it took was seeing her. FP could fight and yell and say horrible things about Betty, but no one could deny who Abigail’s parents are. She’s the spitting image of both of them combined. Soft and demure like Betty, with the wild dark hair of her father and his same dark eyes. 

 

-

 

She had settled onto the couch, refusing to lean back, afraid the smell that was coming from the cushions would be stuck on her clothes forever. She watched his face, as he stared into hers. Dark eyes, dark hair like hers- but peppered with grey and white, a face full of stubble. He was taller and broader than Jughead, his face showed years of hard drinking and late nights. He wore dark jeans with a dark tee under his flannel, and even though he was inside and it was hot out, he still had on his black leather jacket with the green snake emblem on the back. She watched as he scrutinized her face, her clothes, her hair, trying to take it all in, a menacing smirk on his face. He reminded her of the devil, this chilling feeling in the pit of her stomach, and she instantly knew why her mom and Jughead had wanted to wait before bringing her here to meet him. 

 

Jughead had explained to her a little about his dad, how he was absent from most of his childhood, how he was heavily involved with the motorcycle club before passing his presidency down to Jughead when he got too ill. She had visions of Clay from Sons of Anarchy, white hair and a face lacking a smile, but the vision before her was much more terrifying. She shared genes with this man, he was her family. 

 

“So, Abby is it?” She cringed as he addressed her by the name she hated. 

 

“I actually prefer Abigail…” She said, meeting his eyes and speaking directly to him for the first time. The look on his face let her know she wouldn’t be getting her way, and that this man, this stranger, would always only refer to her as Abby.   
“So, Abby. Your mother seems to have filled your head with lies about my son. She seems to think that she knew what was best for you, hiding you from your family and raising you on the other side of the country.” She felt her mom’s hand squeeze hers, thankful she was flanked by both her mom and Jughead. 

 

“Dad. We didn’t come here today to rehash the decision Betty made. She made the choice that was best for her at the time. But you, what you did, tore us apart. Despite everything, Betty’s the one that wanted her to meet you, because for whatever reason, she still thinks there’s hope for you. One chance, that’s it. I’ll stop by later in the week.” 

 

He reached for her arm, and gently helped her up from the couch, shielding her as he guided her and her mother to the door without any more of a goodbye. She could see the frustration and anger in his face, looking like he was about ready to boil over. Her mother reached for his hand to steady him, and she stepped back slightly, giving them space. She watched as her mother grabbed his face, and pulled him in close. 

 

“You are not your father. You are a good person. You are a good man. You are not your father.” She heard her mother whisper, her eyes never leaving his. She watched, as slowly his shoulders relaxed, watched his fists unclench. There was something so intimate and soft about their interaction, Abigail felt like she was imposing just by being in the same space as them. 

 

“Keys, Jug. I’ll drive back.” Her mother reached for the keys in his jacket pocket, grabbing his hand with her free hand, and leading him towards his truck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for all of the love and support, it's so much appreciated!
> 
> you can find me on tumblr @theonlyemmaleigh


	10. The Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two thick iron train tracks running east and west that divided the north and south side of town. The marquee sign at the Bijou. An arrangement of condiments from the table at the same diner they sat in now. An old rope hanging from a tree over Sweetwater River. The tan Jeep parked on the broken concrete of the airport. Red poppies painted on the underpass where the train tracks crossed over Main Street. The high school football field, goal posts silhouetted by the bright lights.

Her body sank back into the red leather booth, a feeling of exhaustion overtaking her. Pulling her laptop out of her bag, she began to sink it with her camera, loading the pictures she had spent the day taking. 

The heat was relentless, and the leaves had not begun to change colors and fall, but yet, everything seemed like summer was coming to an end. One more month remained before she’d start classes in New York, but Charlie was leaving for school, some football training camp, the next week- the day after her and her mother would return from their monthly trip to the city. She wanted nothing more than to stay behind, spend the last remaining days basking in the sunshine on the banks of Sweetwater River, sharing fries and a milkshake at Pop’s, but her mother had been insistent. They needed to make a final decision between NYU and Columbia, and she needed to sign the lease on an apartment. 

An so, it was an early Saturday morning that had found her once again quietly leaving the house before the sun was barely up, meeting the tan Jeep that idled in the driveway. One last day alone. They had decided to spend the day visiting what had become their favorite places in Riverdale- she had wanted to take some photographs to add to her portfolio, a series playing in the back of her mind of small town America. 

There was another idea playing in the back of her mind too, that maybe she’d wanted the series of shots, so she had something tangible to hold on to when he left, besides the feeling. The feeling that maybe, this was how it should have been all along, if she had grown up here, slowly falling in love with your childhood best friend. Maybe it was too soon to call this feeling she felt for him love, but she felt like a part of her had always known him, had always been here, even when she hadn’t known Charlie Andrews or Riverdale. 

Her eyes glanced up from her pictures, watching as he sauntered down the aisle of the diner. It was hard to miss, how everywhere he went, everywhere they went together, people stared. The older ladies melted as he walked by, raising his head and acknowledging them with a “ma’am”. The men clapped him on the back, catching stories of past football victories and hopes for victories to come. But it was always the reaction of the younger girls that made her hands clench- watching the way their heads spun to follow him, the way the braver ones stroked his arm as they talked to him about things she couldn’t hear, watched the looks on their faces when he brushed them off and continued walking down the aisle. His eyes caught hers as she noticed all the eyes in the diner turn to find her, like they so often did when they were together, and a smirk spread across his face. That feeling of jealousy that she’d felt, watching the girls throw themselves at him, fell away when he slid into the booth next to her, his hand falling to rest on her knee as he leaned in to kiss her cheek. 

“Babe, you’re doing it again. Your fingers…” He reached his hands out, uncurling her fingers from her palms before closing his hands gently around hers, bringing them both closer, his lips lightly grazing the tips of her knuckles.

“Sorry. Old habits die hard. Some mother’s tap their nails; mine curls hers into her palms.” Over the years, she’d picked up her mother’s habit of curling her nails into her palms, but for her, it had always been more of a nervous tick. “I think it’s these people, the way they all stare at you. I don’t know how you can handle all of the pressure this town puts on you…”

Her voice trailed off, as he moved a free hand up to push a curl out of her face. 

“It’s not me these people are staring at. You still don’t understand do you?” 

Her face twisted in his direction as she pushed back, confused by the words and the tone of his voice. “Understand what?”'

“Who you are. Who you are to this town.”

“Who I am to this town? I’m no one to this town, I’ve barely been here two months."

“That’s where you’re wrong, Abigail. Your mother, she was the golden daughter of Riverdale- Homecoming queen and class president, she was everything this town wanted to be. But your dad? He was the dark outcast, still is, in his black leather and motorcycle. He represents everything this town hates about itself- the darkness and judgements that lie under the beautiful surface. And then, you show up. This perfect mix of both the light and the dark sides of Riverdale, and your mother, that golden ray of sunshine falls right back into the darkness. The two can’t exist without each other, just like Riverdale can’t exist without both of its parts, the light and the dark.”

She sank back into the booth, reaching for the vanilla milkshake that sat in front of her, trying to take in all that he had said. She knew her parents were important to the town, both in their own ways, but she hadn’t thought about them like that before. Still not able to think of a reply, she turned her attention back to her laptop, clicking through the pictures she’d taken over the course of the day. 

Two thick iron train tracks running east and west that divided the north and south side of town. The marquee sign at the Bijou. An arrangement of condiments from the table at the same diner they sat in now. An old rope hanging from a tree over Sweetwater River. The tan Jeep parked on the broken concrete of the airport. Red poppies painted on the underpass where the train tracks crossed over Main Street. The high school football field, goal posts silhouetted by the bright lights. 

“These came out really incredible.” His voice broke through her thoughts, his strong arm leaning against hers as he pushed closer, trying to share the small screen. 

“Yeah. It makes me wonder, what it would have been like, though. What other memories these places would hold for me.”

“So make news ones,” he dragged the clicker over the first picture, the train tracks that divided the town. “You were seven when you first learned about the Serpents, who your dad really was. He came home one night after a run that had gone bad, and didn’t realize you were still awake. You crept around the corner, and saw his black jacket slipped across the couch, and watched as your mom cleaned the blood off of his face. As you got older, you realized what it was to be from both sides of the tracks, growing up in the sunshine of the north, but still having the darkness of the southside looming over your family.”

“This one.” The rope swing. “Our parents used to bring us here in the summer, when it became too hot to just play in the sprinkler. When we were 13, I kissed you in the water for the first time. You had just jumped off the rope for the first time, and something stirred inside me, how proud it made me that you had conquered a fear.”

She leaned in closer to his arm, breathing in his strong smell of musk and soap. “This one?” The marquee at the Bijou. 

“Our first official date. A Humphrey Bogart double feature, _Casablanca_ and _The African Queen._ I had rolled my eyes, was playing at the theatre in Greenville, but watching the way your face lit up when ‘As Time Goes By’ started playing, made everything worth it.”

“This one doesn’t really need much explanation.” The condiments. ”Our parents insisted on joint brunches every Saturday morning at Pop’s, and as we got older, we started our own tradition of milkshakes after Friday night football games.”  
“The airport is where we went the first night I had my driver’s license. It became this escape for us, lying on the tarmac and watching the stars. You liked to come here when things were hard with your parents, or the pressure to be perfect got to be too much. It became this unspoken rule, that whenever the cops caught us, they would call Sheriff Keller, and he would bring us home. We both got grounded the first time it happened, but after the third time, our parents let us slide.”

“Why this one though?” The red poppies painted across the overpass.

“This one? This was an art project Mayor McCoy commissioned of you. Although, is it really a commissioned work if it really is community service?” Her eyebrow raised as she turned her head up to glance at him, his dark brown eyes sparkling with laughter. “Our senior year. I already knew the answer, you already had your dress, but Marcus convinced me I needed a big gesture, and I painted the overpass asking you to Prom. Needless to say, Mayor McCoy wasn’t thrilled, but you said yes, and that was all that mattered.”

“This one is mostly me. The night after we lost the state final game our senior year, we sat and talked on the 50 yard line until they shut off the lights. I never wanted that moment to end, that feeling of playing in front of a crowd of people who all knew you. It felt like the end of everything I’d ever known and everything I’d been working for. Yeah, there’s college and life after high school, but I’d never wear the blue and gold again and it’d never be like this again.”  
She roped her arm under his, leaning her head on his shoulder. So this was how it would have been, how it should have been, if her mother would have stayed. 

“What if we didn’t have these memories?” She cocked her head towards the laptop, still stuck on that last one at the football field. 

“Maybe one of your new college friends would drag you away for a weekend up state, and I’d challenge you to a game of beer pong at some frat party after my football game. Or I would have taken that full ride to UCLA and borrowed your pen the first day of freshmen orientation. Somehow, I would have found you. And one Thanksgiving break, I would have brought you back here, shown you the town I grew up in, and we would have made a new set of memories. But this town, us? We’ll always find each other.”  
Together, they sat curled into one another in the red leather booth, scrolling through the pictures again and again, each time creating a new memory that captured the moment. 

-

She pulled the back door shut as quietly as she could, toeing out of her shoes at the door. The house was quiet; all of the lights were off. She stepped to go down the hallway, pausing when she noticed her mother and Jughead curled together on the couch. She assumed her mother was sleeping, his fingers were trailing through her blonde hair, _Rebel Without A Cause_ played softly in the background. 

A loud rattle broke through the quiet of the house. The sound wasn’t one she was unfamiliar with but she had become so adjusted to the soft hum of Jughead’s motorcycle, that at first she didn’t recognize it. No, this was louder than just one. 

He sat up straight, practically throwing the blonde from the couch. She watched as instantly the softness left his face, and he grabbed the black jacket he left by the door. Through the front window, she could see the three men wearing black leather jackets approach the house, but before they reached the door, he had stepped out onto the porch. It felt like she was watching a movie, watching her mother move to stand behind the door, her ear pressed to the wood. It was only a moment before he stepped back into the house, she couldn’t hear the muffled words he muttered to her mother, only catching the kiss he placed on top of her head before he stepped back outside, started his motorcycle, and rode off into the dark night. 

She watched, frozen in the dark hallway, as her mother’s knees gave out, and she collapsed on the floor. Suddenly, that feeling little 7-year-old Abigail had when she first found out her father was a Serpent washed over her- fear and betrayal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness- I am SO sorry for the long delay! As always, thank you for all of the love, comments and kudos!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr @theonlyemmaleigh


	11. The Clarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When they were younger, it had always felt like her whole heart was leaving her body when he rode away, but now she felt it shattered on the floor. She was older now, she’d lived a lifetime without that fear and dread overtaking her life, but now that it came sinking back, it brought with it the reminder of past tears she’d cried, past nights waiting up with no word from him. That wasn’t what she’d wanted then, and it wasn’t what she wanted now.

Sometime over the course of the last several hours, she’d moved from her post on the floor in front of the doorway, settling into an arm chair she’d adjusted to face out the window. Sunlight had started to stream through, taunting her heart with shades of pinks and yellows. 

The past few weeks had passed in a sense of ignorant bliss, that black jacket had been discarded, never a discussion about the Serpents or the _Whyte Wyrm_. If they didn’t mention it, they could avoid that half of his life, that part of his life that had torn them apart in the past. But in the early morning hours, that other half had come back rumbling into her life, pulling him away. It was amazing how quickly that feeling had come back to her, that feeling of dread as she watched him run out into the night, that feeling of exhaustion and fear that kept her up all night worried, praying and hoping he was okay, wherever he was. 

When they were younger, it had always felt like her whole heart was leaving her body when he rode away, but now she felt it shattered on the floor. She was older now, she’d lived a lifetime without that fear and dread overtaking her life, but now that it came sinking back, it brought with it the reminder of past tears she’d cried, past nights waiting up with no word from him. That wasn’t what she’d wanted then, and it wasn’t what she wanted now. 

She glanced down at the phone clutched tightly in her hand. Her stream of text messages and phone calls had gone unanswered, like she knew they would. She was still sitting at her post by the window, when the black town car pulled into her driveway, signaling it was time for her to leave. 

As if on que, Abigail came down the hallway, carrying with her both of their bags. Her voice was soft, as she told her she’d let the driver know she’d be out in 10 minutes, giving her some time to wash her face and change out of the clothes she’d been in all night. Glancing at herself in the mirror, her eyes red and swollen, mascara tracks running down her cheeks, she remembered again that girl she’d been at 18, desperately holding on as everything fell through her hands. 

She braided her hair back, quickly applied concealer and a fresh coat of mascara, grabbing a pair of black leggings and a slim black tank top, slipping a dark grey cardigan over her shoulders. She couldn’t dawdle, her dad was expecting her and Abigail for dinner and the car was already waiting. She thought briefly of leaving a note, but he knew how he could reach her. 

The drive to New York was short, only a few hours, but she was still so rattled from the events of the night before, her body sank back against the leather seats, the soft rumble of the road lulling her to drift off to sleep. Abigail stayed mostly silent, only looking up from her phone to change the Pandora station.

The hours had passed peacefully enough, and she stretched her legs, shaking out the stiffness, when the driver stopped in front of her father’s apartment building. Hal had a small apartment in the city that he’d bought after Betty’s parents had divorced. He wrote for a small forensics magazine, and although he had a lady he dated on occasion, her name was Nancy, he had never remarried. 

Riverdale was so different than the city. New York was loud and busy, and never seemed to sleep. Betty was thankful for the distraction, thankful to be somewhere that didn’t remind her of Jughead and the decision he had made. 

She pushed through the day for as long as she could, before feigning exhaustion from the trip shortly after dinner and retreating to the small bedroom that she’d be sharing with Abigail. Tomorrow meant a morning spent in the office, meetings with her editors, before an afternoon spent at NYU with Abigail. Her head had barely hit the pillow before her eyes closed, pulling her away into dreams where her heart didn’t drive away on motorcycles wearing black jackets. 

 

-

 

He didn’t remember making it home, but what was left of the house he owned in Riverdale was in shambles. The coffee table was split down the center. The barstools were scattered around the small space, one with a broken leg, one missing a back. His body ached as he pulled himself off of what remained of the couch, a portion of fabric ripped and hanging off the arm. He heard a distant whimper, the sound of nails scratching against wood, and became thankful he’d at least had the forethought to lock Hotdog in the back bedroom, knowing what was coming. 

Through his shattered phone screen, he scrolled through the series of text messages from her, nothing new since early Sunday morning. He sent her off a quick, **see you on Friday** , unable to think of anything better to say. All the apologies in the world wouldn’t change the anger he knew she had, and she deserved an explanation from him in person.

In the bathroom, he caught a glimpse of himself for the first time. The last two days had been brutal, and it showed on his face. There was a gash that ran above his left eyebrow, and another under his bruised right eye. His bottom lip was split, and he knew if he lifted his grey t-shirt, he’d see the spattering of yellow bruises that ran down his sides, but it was the white patch across his chest he wanted to avoid the most. He knew he’d need to clean it and change the bandage today, but it still felt too fresh, too painful to look at and deal with yet. He washed his face as best as he could before moving into his bedroom, changing into another grey t-shirt and a pair of black sweat pants. 

He made himself a piece of toast while the coffee percolated, and then found his way to the small patio set on his back deck. Cigarette in hand, he leaned back into the chair, watching as Hotdog ran through the backyard before settling against his feet. There was a moment of peace, a clarity washing over him as he sat there in that early morning chill, watching the sun creep out. 

_He rode fast to the Whyte Worm, storming in through the doors. As he walked in, the bar instantly went silent. Those that didn’t need to be a part of this conversation slinked away and out the door. He strode through, not paying any attention to the stares as he pushed his way into the back room, and took his place at the head of the table._

_“What the hell happened? Someone needs to explain to me what the hell is going on here.”_

_“Everything was supposed to be fine. It was supposed to be an easy run.” He glanced up, to meet the eyes of the man who dared to speak first._

_“Obviously it wasn’t, Doc. I’ve got one guy lying in a morgue and one guy lying in ICU. It’s not rocket science. What the hell are you guys doing?” He felt the rage building up in him. He had devoted years of his life to keeping the Serpents clean, rebuilding the Southside. He had built this club into something he was proud of, the days of armed robbery and murder were over, or so he thought. “I told you, stay away from the guns. When you get involved with guns, shit goes wrong.”_

_“Jughead, the money isn’t coming in from the bar anymore. We’ve had to start running guns up north, closer into the city. We thought you knew, we got the clearance.” He turned to stare at the man who addressed him now, a younger kid that’d only been with the club for a few years, but had proven his worth a time or two._

_“Who gave you the authorization to run guns? Who gave you the clearance?” He was shaking. He knew the answer to the question he had asked, but he needed to hear it. He needed to know._

_“FP.” The grey haired man he had addressed as Doc answered, no one daring to look up from the table. Jughead got up from the table, and walked out of the room, out of the bar, back to his bike, and turned it towards the old trailer park on the edge of town._

_He could feel his anger rising as he pulled his bike up in front of the trailer. He stormed through the door, slamming it shut behind him, shaking the whole trailer. FP was sleeping on the couch, and stirred suddenly at the jolt of noise._

_“What the hell dad. Guns?” Jughead screamed at the half asleep man in front of him, throwing his black jacket across the room._

_“Jug, listen. I didn’t see you complaining when your cash flow suddenly increased.”_

_“How long, dad?” He said, still shaking in anger._

_“Two years.” He watched, as his dad looked down, no longer looking into his eyes._

_“I’m done. I want out. This was never what I wanted, always what you wanted. And you made me president and made me think I’d turned things around, when all the while these guys are still answering to you. You went behind my back and gave them orders you knew I was against. I’m done. I want out.”_

_“Is this because of that Betty Cooper? Shit Jug. She’s got you so wrapped up in these little lies she’s been telling you. Filling your head with promises. You aren’t shit outside of this club, you’ll never make it on your own.” FP had gotten up from the couch, and was leaning back against the kitchen counter._

_“No, Dad. It’s because of you. I’ve lived in your shadow my entire life, people telling me I couldn’t be anything because I was FP’s son. The only thing you ever gave me was your name, and I don’t even want that anymore. Do whatever you need to do, I’m done. With you, with the club, with this town. I want out on good standing, send them over if you have to. ” He turned and left, walking out the door and back to his bike. His whole body was shaking in anger. He had finally made the decision he should have made years ago, and he knew the consequences would be coming soon. He rode back to his house, didn’t bother locking the door. He knew when they came looking for him, it wouldn’t matter if the door was locked or not._

 

-

 

On Thursday, in an empty townhouse in Chelsea, she glanced down at her phone again. Pulling up his message from Tuesday, she thought briefly about replying. She’d spent the week rethinking her decision to let him back into their lives. The Serpents weren’t safe, the town wasn’t safe. She’d pushed through work all week, helping Abigail register for classes and signing the paperwork for the townhouse she currently stood in. A full range of emotions had overtaken her in the past week, worry, desperation, anger, and then in the city, her black heels clicking harshly along the sidewalk, peace. 

Years ago, she’d longed for a reunion, longed to save him from the life he’d chose, but you can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved. She had thought briefly, curled into his arms on the couch, that maybe things would be different. That they could restart, rebuild a life together with Abigail, and be a family. But the week had been long and brought with it clarity. He would never change, he would never leave them, leave Riverdale. No matter where she went, he would never follow. 

 

-

 

On Friday, her last day in the city, she met her dad for lunch at a small deli near her office. She was thankful to have a little time with him; the week had been so busy with work she hadn’t seen him much outside of dinners. 

“So, what’s the game plan here, kid?” He asked, as the waiter brought them their iced teas. She knew where this was headed. 

“Dad. I thought I had a plan, I thought I had an idea of what I wanted to do. But seeing the darkness sweep over Jughead the other night, changed every idea I was toying with. And then I haven’t heard from him all week, except that one text on Tuesday. I’m worried, I thought things were different, were better between us, but now I’m not sure anything has changed. I’m not sure what to do now, where to go from here.” She looked up to meet his eyes, and saw the same look of concern he’d given her all her life. 

“Betty, that boy loves you. He’s loved you since he could say your name. He might have fallen down or wandered down the wrong path a time or two, but you have always been his saving grace. You have always been the best part of him, the part that keeps him going. You could be on the other side of the country or half a world away, and that boy would move mountains to make you happy. If you leave Riverdale again, Betty, he’s not going to let you go without a fight. I’m not saying you didn’t make the right choice last time, but maybe you don’t have to make the same choice again. It’s your life baby girl, do what makes you happy.” 

She didn’t have the words to come up with a reply. Maybe her dad was right, that she’d made the right choice the first time, but maybe it wasn’t the right choice now. The clarity she thought she’d felt the day before washed away, replacing her with doubt that she was making the right choice. 

 

-

 

She was quiet on the ride back to Riverdale, her mind reeling with thoughts, trying to come up with a plan, then rethinking and changing said plan. Abigail remained quiet, seeming to sense the inner conflict that was going on in her mind. 

” Mom, do you mind dropping me off at the Andrews’? Charlie wanted to catch a late movie at the Bijou.” When they passed the welcome sign, she heard the soft voice next to her breaking the silence. She was thankful she’d raised a daughter with tact.   
“Sure thing, baby. Send me a message if you’re staying the night.” She said, as she kissed her daughter on the cheek and watched as she slid out of the car. 

The drive through town felt like it took forever, but it was only a few minutes until the black town car pulled up in front of her rental house. She might have been mad or upset with Jughead, worried about what she was getting herself into, but she found her shoulders slumping a little when she saw his truck wasn’t in her driveway. 

 

-

 

He’d driven the streets of Riverdale his whole life, but the drive across town seemed to take hours. He knew she was home, a text from Archie had confirmed that Abigail was at their house. When his truck pulled into the driveway, his heart started racing, catching her shadow standing by the front window.

He turned the truck off, and stepped up onto the porch, key in hand. Before he could turn the handle, the door opened from the inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of the love! 
> 
> follow me on tumblr @theonlyemmaleigh


	12. The Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s no good way to rip off a bandage, but he closed his eyes and tugged harshly . His eyes didn’t need to be open to hear the gasp that left her mouth, didn’t need to see her face to know she was wincing and backing away from him. 
> 
> -This fic has been rated M for language, implied violence, and this.

He turned the car off, and stepped up onto the porch, key in hand. Before he could turn the handle, the door opened from the inside. _She looks like an angel, the porch light lighting her face._ He crossed the threshold, reaching out to grasp her face. 

“Betty Cooper, you are a sight for sore eyes…” before he was able to even breath the words to her, his face jarred to the right, feeling the sting of her hand as it collided with the left side of his face. Instinctively, he reached up to dab the cut that had been healing above his eye, already knowing the sticky substance that now grazed his fingertips. 

-

In the bathroom down the hall, the light was glaring brightly, but she stood still by the doorway, cloaked in just the moonlight, running the dark maroon color around her fingers. Her heart was racing, something of a mix of anger from him being silent all week, and finally coming to terms with her feelings. She hadn’t meant to smack him, it had just kind of happened. The way he had so casually stepped into her house, like he had nothing to apologize for, but the blood staining her hand told her she might have something to apologize for. 

“Jug?” He sat on the edge of her bathtub, his hands running through his hair. “Can I look at it?”

“My bag, by the door, there’s butterfly bandages in there.”

A moment later she came back into the bathroom, the small packages of bandages in hand. Leaning down in front of him, pushing his hair out of his eyes, she felt her shoulders slump. His face was yellowed and the one she’d reopened above his eye, wasn’t the only cut on his face. There was something that had happened during the week she was gone, and maybe it was that something that would change everything. 

“Why do you keep butterfly bandages in your bag, Jug?”

“So I don’t keep calling Michael.”

“Who’s Michael?”

“Kevin’s husband. It’s a long story.”

“Obviously. Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

-

And he did. He told her about the fear he’d felt when the Serpents had shown up on her doorstep, the anger he’d raged when he’d found out more lies his father had fed him. How he’d locked Hot Dog in the back bedroom of his house, so when they came looking for him, his dog wouldn’t be hurt in the process. How each blow had been worse than going through the gauntlet all those years earlier, but how each one felt deserved for all of the pain he’d caused her over the years. 

Once he was finally finished, his eyes finally glanced up to find hers. She had sat in silence on the bathroom tile, only listening to him explain the last week of his life. Her face softened, her hand reached out to grasp his, standing up from the floor and gently pulling him with her. 

“There’s one more thing, Bets.” He reached down, his hands pulling on the hem of his t-shirt. He didn’t want to see the look on her face when he tossed it to the floor, knowing the white patch across his chest also needed to be changed. 

“Jug?” He winced, biting his lip as her fingers traced the outline of the white patch, rubbing gently at the taped edges. 

There’s no good way to rip off a bandage, but he closed his eyes and tugged harshly . His eyes didn’t need to be open to hear the gasp that left her mouth, didn’t need to see her face to know she was wincing and backing away from him. It suddenly occurred to him that she had never once seen the tattoo that had finally torn them apart, and now here he was, presenting it to her in all of its tarnished glory.

For years, he’d taken pride in the snake that curled across his chest, the small crown on its head, her initials hidden in the scales on the tail. But the last week, he’d been unable to look at himself in the mirror after his showers, unable to look at it other than to change the bandage every day. What had once been a proud king serpent, had effectively been dethroned when the thick cut of a knife had carved a line through where the neck would be, severing the head of the snake. 

“Is this? Does this? Jug?” There were few times in his life he could remember Betty Cooper losing her words. Her fingers traced the tattoo across his chest, as if it would suddenly give her the answers she needed. 

“It is, Bets. It’s done. I’m done.” 

She was silent, her eyes staring up to meet his, before she closed the distance between them, her lips crashing into his. It’d only been a week since he’d last kissed her, but something felt different, shifted, between them. 

“Betty” he rasped, coming up for a breath. 

“No,” he heard her say, and he frowned slightly when she pulled away from him. “Not now.” She grabbed his hand, and turned around, pulling him behind her, down the hallway, to the bedroom that she slept in. 

He watched, slightly in awe, as she peeled off the blouse she was wearing, stepping out of her heels, she hadn’t bothered to turn the lights on, her body was silhouetted by the moon shining in the window. She reached out, tugging on his hand and pulling her back to him. He kissed her lips, biting lightly on her bottom lip, before trailing kisses down her collarbone, nibbling softly on the spot where her collarbone met her neck. She let out a whimper, and melted into his arms. He pushed into her, grabbing her from behind and pulling her closer. She pushed back into him, walking him backwards until his knees hit the bed and he fell, pulling her down on top of him. His knees pushed her legs apart, and she straddled across him. She leaned down, kissing his mouth, before pulling away and kissing down his stomach, tracing the outline of his muscles with her tongue. He flinched as her hands trailed along his sides, and groaned slightly against her. He grabbed her hair, both forcefully and softly running his hands through her curls. She bent back on her knees, and pulled the zipper down on his jeans, letting his erection spring free. She looked up, meeting his eyes, and he marveled at the look of lust and excitement in her eyes. She glanced back down, grabbing his member with both hands, and twisting softly before enveloping him with her mouth. He gasped at the warmth of her mouth, and thrust into her. He’d forgotten how skilled she was, as she worked one hand while she worked her mouth. He thrust into her again, watching her eyes as she swallowed everything he filled her with. 

Betty pulled back, sitting up with a smirk on her face and lust in her eyes, and Jughead rolled her over to her back, meeting his lips with hers. Her tongue danced against his lip, shoving into his mouth, and he shivered thinking of how abrasive she was being. He pulled away, nibbling that spot where her collarbone meets her neck again, she pressed herself upwards, pushing into him further. He trailed kisses down her chest, pushing her lacy bra aside when he reached her mounds. His tongue flicked across her nipple, and she reached her hands up to yank on his hair. He glanced up, meeting her eyes again, before sliding further down her body. 

“These have to come off.” He said, as he pulled on her pants, she wiggled to help him, but feeling her move around like that underneath him only made him harder. He slid down her lace panties, and kissed up her thighs until he reached her center. She bucked into him, as he slid one finger into her, eyes looking up to meet hers again. She threw her head back into the pillows as he slid another finger in, curling them upwards. 

“Juggie… please…” Her voice trailed off, but he wasn’t going to let her get away so easily. He leaned down, and slipped his tongue in between his fingers, before finding her bundle of nerves and sucking slightly. She thrust up into him again, and he felt her walls clench around his fingers, her thighs quivering. 

“Jug, I need you now.” He had always loved to make her beg for him, seeing her come undone under his hand. He pulled himself onto the bed, laying his body down on top of hers, peppering her mouth with kisses. He gasped as she reached down, grabbing his member again, and directing him into her. He watched as her face clenched up, her hands gripping the sheets. 

“Betty.” He said, as he thrust into her, gently, letting her adjust and open up for him. He marveled at the thoughts running through his head, how tight she felt gripping against him, which only made him harder and thrust into her again, and again. She pulled her legs up, wrapping them around his waist, pulling him in tighter to her. He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, the way her body rocked into his. He reached a hand in-between them, finding her sweet spot and toying his thumb around it. She squeezed her legs tighter, pulling him in even closer than he thought possible. 

“Juggie… fuck.” She screamed, as her walls clenched around him, sending a wave of ecstasy over her body. The look on her face of pure satisfaction was all it took, and he screamed her name as he released himself into her. 

She laid there for a moment, not wanting to move, not wanting this moment to be over. Her body was still pulsing under his; he could feel her heart racing. He slid gently off of her, lying down softly on the pillows next to her, and pulling her into his chest, running his fingers through her hair. 

“So, how was New York?” He smiled, as she let out a small laugh. He leaned down to kiss her forehead, wrapping his arms around her body. 

Betty heard the soft vibrate of her phone, and leaned over to check her messages. 

_Staying at the Andrews. See you tomorrow!_

She rolled over, and looked at the man lying next to her in her bed. “Jug- are you hungry?” 

“Betty, its 2 in the morning.” He replied, his voice soft and sleepy. 

“Aren’t you always hungry?” She slipped out of bed, grabbing his flannel from the floor and wrapping it around her, glancing back to see him watching her as she pattered down the hallway. 

She heated the oven, brewed a fresh pot of coffee, and leaned back against the counter to catch her breath. What did you just do? She was still reeling with emotions, hurt and anger at seeing him slip on that jacket and then not hearing from him for days. The look in his eyes that night gave her chills, his face had been full of worry and rage. The oven beeped, and she placed the frozen pizza she’d grabbed out on the pizza stone, and slid it into the oven. She had her back turned when he walked in, felt him grab her waist, and spun her around.

“Jug.” Her voice was soft, moving to sit at the table, reaching for his hands as he slid in across from her. “I don’t think I really understand.”

He didn’t look up to meet her eyes, she could feel his pain just looking at this face. “This week, with you gone, I made a decision, one I should have made years ago. California, New York, Riverdale. When you leave, I’m going with you. I can’t let you walk out my life again; I can’t be where you aren’t.” 

He looked up, meeting her eyes, and she saw that his were filled with tears. She stood up, pulling him up and into her. She wrapped her arms around him, gently; she could feel him flinch under her touch. “Jug,” she said her voice soft against his chest.   
He pulled back from her, ran his fingers through her hair, before he reached down to stroke her face. His voice was almost a whisper against her mouth, “I never stopped loving you, Bets.” The words, so soft it took her a moment to register what he’d said, before the feeling rushed over her, and she looked up to meet his eyes, finding his lips with hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of the love and kudos! Special thank you to @ohmisskate and @gabsjellybean for talking me through this and listening to my insecurities!


	13. The Next Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He didn't want her to see him like this, didn't want to explain his absence this past week. Growing up, he'd became hardened to his dad's ways, watching him come home time and time again bruised and bloody, and even in the short few months he'd known he was a father, he never wanted her to see him like that. Never wanted to her to see his father when she looked at him

The following afternoon found Jughead holding Betty’s hand as they walked up the steps of the Andrews’ house. His body was sore from their night before, but he had marveled at the way she greeted him this morning, with a cup of coffee and aspirin, gently stroking the new addition to his snake tattoo. She was so soft and delicate as she moved over him, touching each of his bruises, stroking his cheek, that it made him forget the pain. 

He had thoroughly enjoyed his relaxing morning with just Betty, not worrying about the Serpents or what their next plan was, just snuggled together in a chair on her back deck. Since they had both declared their desire to not be apart, something had shifted between them, and he knew they would need to discuss exactly what that desire meant, but for right now, he was content with his hand on her lower back, guiding her into the Andrews’ kitchen. Veronica and Archie already knew about his decision to leave the Serpents, but he had managed to lay low while Betty was in New York, so they hadn’t seen the damage that had been done. And of course, there was Abigail. It made him wince, thinking of her seeing him like this, face yellowed and bruised, but he had refused Betty’s offer to put makeup on him. It felt almost like a badge of honor, the effects of his beating openly declaring his love for the blonde. She turned to look at him, the last fleeting moment of the day, just the two of them before they were spotted by their friends, and moved his hand to hold hers, squeezing it gently. He leaned down, and kissed her forehead gently, before whispering in her ear- “Just keep holding my hand, Bets.” He watched as that golden smirk spread across her face, like a little secret just between the two of them. And then, like all of their moments before, the door burst open and Kevin Keller pulled her away, out into the yard. 

-

 

“Betty Cooper, I have missed your face so much!” She heard him squeal, but she was looking back, still towards the door, where Jughead stood, leaning against the frame. She wanted to reach out, to hold him and kiss way his pain. He gave her a slight smile, and she watched as he stepped into the yard, and found a chair by the grill next to Archie. She saw Archie pull back when he saw his friends face, and watched the anger pour over Archie. One thing at a time, she told herself. Jughead could explain himself to Archie- Kevin was quickly pulling her over to the pool where a tall, blonde man was making a drink with Veronica. 

“Ahh, Betty Cooper! I have heard so much about you! And I absolutely love your magazine!” The blonde man reached out, pulling Betty in for an embrace that she wasn’t quite expecting, and she stumbled a little over the deck. 

“Betty- this is my husband Michael, he’s an emergency room physician at Riverdale General. He helped put your little Jughead back together the other night.” Kevin was full of energy, and maybe a few vodka and cranberries, she could see his face blushing red from the drink.

“I’m so thankful you were able to be there for him. His wound seems to be healing well, his bruises are a faded yellow now.” She said, smiling up at Michael. Veronica grabbed her arm, and pulled her off to the side. 

“Archie told me Jughead threw his jacket at FP the other night, he really left the Serpents? Betty, what’s going on?” Veronica’s face was both quizzical and concerned, both for Betty as well as for Jughead. 

“Veronica, I’d rather let him tell you the details, when he’s ready. But more or less, while Abigail was in New York deciding to attend NYU, and I was in New York deciding to move my life there, Jughead Jones was here deciding not to live his life without me in it.” She watched as her face changed, and a smile spread across her face. 

“So you really are both moving to New York, together?” Veronica squeezed her hand tightly, the look of excitement on her face almost overflowing. 

“V- this was all just decided last night. We haven’t talked about where to go from here, or what our next step will be. But waking up next to him this morning, Veronica, it felt like everything was right in the world.”

“Girl, B- GET THAT! Abigail and I had a conversation the other day about your lack of dates in LA.”

“Oh god. You talked about my sex life with my daughter!” The two friends burst out in laughter, just as Kevin Keller rejoined the girls, carrying a pitcher of sangria. 

“When do we get to officially start calling you Mrs. Jones? I mean, I have been for years, but I had better be your man of honor!” 

“Oh no, Kevin. I claimed matron of honor years ago! Especially if the Jones’ wedding is finally going down!” 

“You guys!” She screamed, bringing her friends back to the present, “One thing at a time! Can we at least have a first date first?” She laughed, grabbing on to Veronica’s arm to steady herself. 

-

 

“Jughead. I really hope you know what you’re doing here.” He didn’t need Archie’s lecture. He’d gotten it enough from his dad, and then again from Kevin the night the Serpents had been to his house. “What’s your plan now? Move to California? Live in a house on the beach? Jughead- you run from the sun.”

“Arch- we haven’t really had a chance to work out the details yet, everything just happened last night. I’ve known for a while I wanted to get away from the Serpents, spend more time writing and less time in a bar. Why can’t you just be happy for me, for us?” 

“It’s not that I’m not happy for you, Jug. It’s just, it’s Betty. She brings out the extremes in you, and that’s not always a good thing.” He looked up to meet his friends’ eyes, and saw something more than just anger there.

“She brings out the extremes in you too, she always has. When she’s with me, you act like we’re still in high school and I stole your girl away. You get jealous, Arch.”  
“It’s not like that, Jug. She was always my best friend growing up, but when she started dating you, I became our third wheel. I thought for years her and I would figure things out and end up together, but then Veronica came along and Betty fell for you, and everything changed. Don’t think I don’t love my wife, but I spent the first 16 years of my life thinking I would marry Betty Cooper. And the day she left, was the day I realized Betty Cooper had never loved me the way she loved you. And then she shows up 18 years later, with your daughter, and it felt like that wave of emotions all over again. It was never me, Jug- it was always you. You have always been her end game. And you’re right, maybe I was jealous in high school, maybe I was mad when she first came back, maybe I do want you to be careful. But honestly, have you looked in the mirror today? You took one hell of a beating for that girl, Jones.”

“Arch, she’s not just some girl…” He started to say more, but his voice trailed off as he caught her laughter coming from the pool and looked up to see her clinking glasses with Kevin and Veronica. 

“I know, Jug. She’s everything. Just don’t let her get away this time. Are you finally going to make her the official Mrs. Jones?” 

“Uh, Jughead?” The soft voice startled him, and he turned around to see the dark mound of curls that was his daughter.

-

 

His heart broke, watching her drop Charlie Andrews’ hand as she stepped across the deck, taking a seat beside him. He didn't want her to see him like this, didn't want to explain his absence this past week. Growing up, he'd became hardened to his dad's ways, watching him come home time and time again bruised and bloody, and even in the short few months he'd known he was a father, he never wanted her to see him like that. Never wanted to her to see his father when she looked at him.

“What happened to your face?” Her eyes darted over his face, taking in the bruises and the gash.

“Hey, Abigail. How was New York?” He didn’t want to have this conversation with his daughter, not now after he hadn’t seen her in a week. 

“I’ll tell you about NYU if you tell me about your face.” His face split into a smirk, because as much as he wanted to avoid telling her what had really happened while he was gone, she still shared his smart inquisitive skills. 

“Touché. While you were in New York, some things happened with the club, and I decided to step down and turned in my jacket. They have their own way of dealing with things.” He didn’t look up to meet her, keeping his eyes on his feet as he bounced his knees up and down. 

“You really love her, don’t you?” Those same grey eyes she saw every morning darted up to meet him, a hint of confusion and agreement. 

“She wasn’t the only deciding factor…” He lost his train of thought, she could see in his face he was struggling with something, but she wasn’t sure what. 

“So, New York. It was amazing. NYU is beautiful, they have this great independent study program. I registered for classes, starting the first week in September. Mom put a down payment on this really great town house...” 

“I know, she showed me the pictures last night. It’ll take Hotdog some time to get used to the city, but I’m sure he’ll love Central Park.” From the back of Archie’s yard, the large dog had heard his name, and came bounding up the deck steps, crashing into the chair and nearly toppling her out of it.

“What? What about Hotdog?” She was scratching the back of his ears, and this time, it was her eyebrows that were furrowed in confusion. 

“Well…” He had started to tell her about the events of last night, leaving out the parts no daughter ever wanted to hear, but a soft hand came down on his shoulder. Instantly, he felt wrapped in her smell, in her space. Her blonde hair fell over his shoulder as she leaned closer to their daughter. 

“We talked about some things last night, and although we both agreed that, since you’ll be in college and living in the dorms, we can’t control what you do, but we do have some rules. Mandatory dinners at the townhouse every Thursday and again on Sunday to watch Game of Thrones, and if you ever miss a Saturday morning brunch because you are too hungover, well, we haven’t gotten that far yet. We’ll probably make you live at the townhouse for a month.”

The grey eyes staring back at his were so full of confusion he almost laughed. She was still pulling on Hotdogs ears, but he could almost see her brain churning as she tried to process everything that had just been said. 

“I guess I still don’t understand, Mom? Jughead?”

“Abigail- your mother was pretty straight forward with you just now. Honestly child, I thought you had inherited your parent’s smarts.” The small gathering that was taking place by the pool had now migrated over to the deck area, and the group that had once just been him and Archie, now contained all their closest friends, and their two children. Kevin spun the straw around the rim of his glass. “I think what your mother is trying to tell you, is that Jughead is moving to New York too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter to go! Thank you so much for all of your love, comments, kudos and support! '
> 
> follow me on tumblr @theonlyemmaleigh


	14. The Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The large orange and white trailer was parked next to the curb, loaded to the brim with mattresses and dressers, garment bags stuffed with what little clothes had made the trek to Riverdale. The bed of his black truck, the back-rear window recently stripped of its snake decal, contained a random assortment of boxes that contained the parts of their lives they had deemed important enough to save.

The large orange and white trailer was parked next to the curb, loaded to the brim with mattresses and dressers, garment bags stuffed with what little clothes had made the trek to Riverdale. The bed of his black truck, the back-rear window recently stripped of its snake decal, contained a random assortment of boxes that contained the parts of their lives they had deemed important enough to save. In the end, most everything else was being shipped from California, scheduled to arrive later in the week, and only the bare minimum would be making the journey. 

The small white house she had rented for the summer seemed larger than it had when she moved in, devoid of the love and laughter and life they had filled it with. This little place, this little blip on the radar that was her life, had brought her so much. Brought her back to the place she thought she’d never be, back to the one she thought she’d never get to love again. 

She stood in the kitchen, re-wiping the counter for maybe the 5th time that morning, working the same spot over and over again, when she heard the patter of Hotdog’s feet across the bare wood floors, the soft whine he made when someone was at the door. 

Three cups of coffee in his hands, Archie Andrews stepped thru the threshold, bending down to scratch the large dog behind his ears as he raced between his legs. She heard the stairs creak, knew Jughead must be bringing down another box. Peeking around the corner, she watched two men that had known each other their entire lives, moving together without talking. The dark-haired one who shared her bed, grabbed the leash that hung by the door, taking one of the mugs of coffee as he slipped out the front door. 

A momentary wash of panic came over her. For months, the entire summer, the entire time she’d been back in Riverdale, they’d been skating around each other. Breakfasts and dinners, always surrounded by others, but she had not truly been alone with him, since that one morning when he had snapped at her the first week she had been back. 

He had been her first friend, her first best friend. He had been there with her in the sandbox, helped carry her inside at recess when she fell from the monkey bars and broke her wrist. He had taught her to play Halo in middle school, danced with her at all of their high school dances. When his parents bought him his first dog, Vegas, he’d brought her over to her first. He had been the boy she shared walkie talkies with, staying up having late night conversations and planning clandestine missions to the treehouse in his backyard, until the walkie talkies were replaced with cell phones, the crackling static replaced with the chime of a text message. Before there was Jughead, before there was Veronica, there was him. He had been her person, her everything, and even though that childhood love had long faded, in its place had formed a lifelong friendship. 

His footsteps clattered down the hallway, and she turned back to wiping that same spot on the counter. Without a word, the coffee cup was placed on the counter next to her. He was leaning back against it, clutching the last remaining cup of coffee for himself, and even in his silence, she knew why he was here. 

“Arch.” Her own voice startled her, coming out as barely as whisper. 

“Betty, you need to let me speak.”

Outside on the back deck, the two friends settled onto the steps, steaming coffee mugs still in hand, he told her everything. Of how lost and alone he’d felt when she left. How when Veronica told him she was pregnant, he’d momentarily thought of running away, because he couldn’t imagine his child growing up not knowing her. How when Vegas died a few years after Charlie was born, he’d sat his son down and tried his best to explain to him that those we love never really leave us, that we always carry a part of them in us, in the same way he had always carried a part of her inside of him. She was that first person that had seen the best in him, pushed him to be better- better at football, better at music, better at his relationship with Veronica. She had understood him in a way that neither Jughead or Veronica ever had, and then she was just gone. No phone calls or text messages to even let him know she was alive. No Christmas cards from the Cooper family, no limited-edition Spiderman comics on his birthday. She was just gone. He’d spent several years angry at her, trying to figure out what he had done that had caused her to just leave him without an explanation, and then even more years spent wondering if all of their friendship had just been a figment of his imagination. Had they really been as close as he had once thought, or was the whole thing just a dream? Because the friend he had had in Betty Cooper, the Betty Cooper he knew, would have never left him the way she did. 

And then, just a few months ago, she’d shown up on his front porch, accompanied by his other best friend, looking for her curly haired daughter that sat in his dining room. She had come back into town, and gone straight to _him_ , and he’d felt resentment and jealousy, that even still, even after all those years of not speaking, she still didn’t offer him an explanation. Not even a phone call that she was back in town, she was just standing there in the porch light, looking terrified and afraid. 

And she had been, she told him. Absolutely terrified of what she would find coming back to Riverdale. How she had tried to dial his old number, to call him, to give him any kind of warning that her daughter was on her way to his house, but she couldn’t bring herself to push that green button. She had left him too when she left Riverdale behind. Deciding to withhold Abigail from him until she literally showed up on his doorstep, was one of the hardest decisions she had ever made. She told him about all the times over the years when she had needed him, about the nights that Abigail had kept her up all night crying, and how she longed for their late-night walkie talkie conversations. About the doubts she’d had about her decision, all of the times she had thought about coming back to Riverdale, but then being so afraid of what she would find. She told him about the first time one of her articles had made the cover of Vogue, how she had wanted to mail him a copy so he could share in her accomplishment. How when she received her first invitation to the Met Gala, she had felt a sense of panic come over her, terrified that she wouldn’t be able to handle herself, and how much she had wanted to reach out to him, remember his calming, encouraging and supportive words. 

Tears rolled down her cheeks as the coffee chilled in her hands, and a comfortable silence fell over the them. Two friends, who had been together since the beginning. Even in the years they had been apart, still looking and longing for that friendship that they had once had, still relying on one another even when they weren’t together. She reached out, grabbing for his hand while he tucked her closer into his side.

 

-

 

The air was hot, sticky and muggy, but he was already half way across to the other side of town when he began to regret not taking his truck. Hotdog pulled tightly on his leash, dragging him closer and closer to his destination.

As he stepped up onto the sagging porch, he made a mental note to send someone out to replace the porch and weed what was left of the flower beds. Maybe send some new curtains so the old lace ones could finally be retired. His hand was barely on the doorknob, when it was opened from the inside.

“I’ve been wondering if you’d stop by.” He glanced up, trying to take in and memorize every feature on his father’s face. The harsh stubble, the shaggy dark brown hair that was beyond needing a haircut, the dark brown eyes that didn’t sparkle like they had when he was younger. His complexion was paler, almost a washed gray, that youthful tan long gone. 

“I wish I had more to say to you. There’s a lot I really want to say, but truthfully, in the end, it’s not going to make any difference. You’ve already done what you did, but I still ended up with her in the end. With both of them. With my family. And I’ve come to realize that’s all that matters.” 

He engulfed the familiar smell of leather as his arms wrapped around the older man, feeling like a child all over again as his father rusted his fingers through his hair, his body heaving slightly, either from shortness of breath or tears. Or maybe both. When he pulled away and met those dark brown eyes again, there was a sadness he hadn’t seen, not since his mother had left. 

He didn’t want to linger, didn’t want to draw out an apology or a goodbye, so he stepped further back, leaving the small piece of paper on the table by the couch. An address and a phone number, and an invitation to Thanksgiving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said this would be the last chapter, and it kind of is, just the epilogue remains!
> 
> Thank you for all of your love and support!
> 
> follow me on tumblr @theonlyemmaleigh


	15. The Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica Andrews should have gone into wedding planning.

Veronica Lodge was giving Alice Cooper a run for her money. When it came to last minute wedding planning, her perfectionist nature had taken over, and Abigail could hardly stand to be in the same room as her. If it wasn’t the shade of gold napkins, it was the shade of blush flowers, or the personalized cake toppers. When her parents had first told her that they were spending the 2 weeks before the wedding in Europe, Abigail had been livid. But with her mother gone, she had no filter between her and Veronica, and she was starting to see that maybe her parents knew exactly what they were doing. Veronica was her mother’s best friend, and had become closer than an aunt, almost a second mother to her, in the four years since she and her mother had moved back from California, but Abigail was finding it harder and harder to even make it through a phone call with her, let alone a lunch.

But that’s exactly where she was headed. She had had an interview in Riverdale that morning, at the new art gallery that was going in downtown, but she had promised Veronica she’d be back in New York for lunch. The drive was only 2 hours, but she’d already managed to call her 23 times. She glanced down, and saw she was already 20 minutes late.

“Yes, Aunt V. I’m on my way. I’m literally right around the corner. I’m sure Aunt JB and Gladys understand. Will you order me a mimosa, I’ll be there in just a minute.” She picked up her pace a little, her heels scurrying across the cement sidewalks. Abigail was close with her Aunt JB, but besides a few family gatherings, she barely knew her other grandma, she wasn’t exactly motherly towards Jughead. She rounded the corner, saw that her little group was already seated on the patio and pushed through the metal barrier and slid into a seat next to the thin girl, with the undercut black hair and full sleeve tattoos. JB pulled her arm in close and leaned into her.

“I am going to kill you if you leave me alone with this woman again.” Abigail looked up to meet her aunt’s face and was met with a menacing look of hatred. 

“Which one?” She replied, reaching for her mimosa, watching as a smirk spread across JB’s face.

“Touché, little one.” Aunt JB had moved from Toledo shortly after she had started at NYU, and she managed a small record store in Brooklyn. She was loud and opinionated and a refreshing change from her Aunt Polly. Despite the 13-year age difference, she considered JB something of an older sister, and they had grown very close over the last few years. Moving back to Riverdale and not seeing her every week would be hard, but Charlie was moving back to work for his dad, and Abigail was looking forward to living a quieter life. 

“How was the job interview?” Abigail looked up to meet Veronica’s eyes, surprised she was thinking of anything except the up-coming wedding.   
“It went great, they really liked my portfolio. The director said I should hear back from them by the end of next week.”

“Well, they’ll be lucky to have you. And I can’t wait to have you back in Riverdale.” Veronica reached out to grab her hand, and Abigail felt a ping of happiness. “Now, seating chart. I still don’t like the way this looks, if we put the Hal too close to FP, there might be a problem.” 

“Can we just have one lunch that is free of wedding planning? And you know that this is what my mother wanted, all of the parents sitting together, forgetting about old grudges.” The waiter, seeming to sense her stress, set another mimosa in front of her, which she quickly downed, forgetting the lady-like manners she’d inherited from her Grandma Alice.

The rest of the lunch did not pass wedding planning free. Gladys had her own opinions about the seating chart- _‘I refuse to be sat next to Mary Andrews.’_ No, this was how her mother had wanted it, all of their parents at one table, make it look less divided. _‘Hermione won’t go for that either, you know my mother can’t be within 20 feet of Alice Cooper.’_ Maybe you can all act like fucking grown-ups for one fucking day. Somehow, Abigail had made it through lunch without causing irreparable damage to her weird little family unit, and she was thankful to finally part ways with Veronica and Grandma Gladys, her and Aunt JB heading off to meet Charlie and some friends of his from high school in Central Park. 

He was standing in front of the fountain when they reached him, his tall frame and black hair made him stick out. His brown eyes were dancing, laughing at something she couldn’t hear yet, and she was thankful for JB’s arm linked in hers, because it helped steady her balance. Four years of seeing him almost every day, of knowing all of the best and worst parts of him, and he still made her knees shake when she heard his laugh. _Only two more days and this will all be over._

 

-

 

_Whose idea was it to book a flight home two days before the wedding._ The flight was delayed, and they hadn’t made it back to the townhouse until almost 1 in the morning. She was exhausted, and jet lagged. She had tried to sleep in, but between a massage appointment, picking her dress up from the tailors, lunch with her mother and the final floral appointment, she barely had an hour to shower and get ready before heading to Flora Bar for the rehearsal dinner. She had to admit, she was looking forward to Sunday when the wedding would be over, and she could relax a bit. 

Veronica Andrews should have gone into wedding planning, she had been an absolute terror since the engagement. She loved her best friend dearly but calls and texts at all hours of the night to discuss table linens and caterers was beyond her. She’d figured out how to mute just her calls, so she could ignore them until she had time to deal with them. She’d be sitting in the middle of a meeting with her editors and all of sudden, Veronica was calling to talk bridesmaid’s dresses. “Only the best” she kept saying, but Betty felt like she was about ready to snap. Her palms were raw from clenching them every time Veronica called, or every time there was a new ‘crisis’. “It’s just one day”, she’d tell V, and she’d reply, “You’ll remember it for the rest of your life.”. 

“Jughead, can you zip me up?” She called for him, marveling at how handsome he looked in his black suit as he stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom that they shared together. 

“Elizabeth, you are stunning.” She giggled a little, as he ran his fingers up her spine before tugging on the zipper of her black pencil dress. He brushed her hair to one side, kissing her neck softly, before clasping the string of pearls he had bought her after his last book was published. She looked up and met his eyes, amazed that after all these years, he still made her knees shake when he touched her. 

“No beanie tonight?” She peered over her shoulder at him in the mirror, a smirk on his face. She’d finally gotten him to admit what had happened to it. After she left for California, he realized he was hiding behind it, using the hat as a crutch. He tore it off and fell into a downward spiral of drinking and bad decisions, but he never got rid of the hat. When he had dug himself out of the hole he created, he started to wear it when he wrote, or to a big meeting, or the day they moved into their townhouse in New York. It became more of a safety blanket to him, protecting him when he was nervous, a little reminder of how far he had come. She had to admit sometimes, she missed seeing him wear it all the time, his dark waves falling out from underneath. But he hadn’t had long waves in years, he liked to keep his hair shorter now, but still left it long enough for her to run her fingers through. She turned around to face him, and leaned up to kiss his lips, softly at first, but his lips became more urgent as he ran his hands down her arms, gripping her waist and pulling him into her.

“Mr. Jones- the car is ready for you.” _Always being interrupted._ A few more days, and this would all be over.

“Betty Cooper- are you ready to leave?” She blushed as she reached for her clutch, grabbing his hand with the other and leaning into his arm. She always felt like a little school girl when he called her that. 

-

 

“FINALLY! I was starting to get worried about you two! Jug- you’ve got lipstick on your mouth.” He glanced over at the blonde who was still struggling to compose herself, her dress slightly twisted, and had to smile. Veronica Andrews’, however, was not in the mood for jokes right now. She had been tense for months, blowing up Betty’s phone at all hours of the night, and he honestly couldn’t wait until Sunday when this would all be over.

“Remind me again why we didn’t go to Europe after the wedding?” He said, leaning into the stumbling blonde next to him. 

“Honestly you two. You act like high-schoolers every chance you get to be alone. Yes, we’re all so happy you’re back together, but it’s been four years. Can you refrain from the massive displays of public affection for an evening? The rest of us would like to be able to enjoy being in your presence.” 

“We’re here now, V. Let’s go. Honestly, you act like it’s your wedding.” Betty shot Veronica a look, that would have sent chills down his back if it had been at him, but instead he elbowed his wife and squeezed her hand gently. 

“Well, hopefully this is the last one…”

“I know- nothing but the best. But honestly.” He gripped Betty’s hand a little tighter, he could feel her body tensing up. She was easily agitated when she was tired, and he knew she was on the brink of saying something she’d regret the next day. 

“I’m sorry for throwing myself into planning the wedding both of us....” Veronica had crossed the gap between them and reached to grab Betty’s other hand. 

“I know. The wedding both of us dreamed of…” Her voice trailed off, and for a moment he saw a look of sadness on her face. 

He had wanted to give her all she had ever dreamed of. In the end, he’d found himself standing next to Archie in a dark charcoal grey suit at Riverdale City Hall. Her dress was a white three-quarter sleeve shift that hit right above her knee, paired with a pair of nude heels, a bouquet of white lilies. She had told him repeatedly, that he was all she had ever wanted, and he’d finally relented. On their last day in Riverdale, they celebrated in the Andrew’s backyard with takeout from Pop’s, transformed by the miracle that was Veronica’s ability to plan a party. Their honeymoon had been spent locked away in their New York apartment, only after they had successfully moved their daughter into her dorms. 

He leaned in, and kissed the top of her head, squeezing her hand once again, before whispering- “I love you, Betty Jones” in her ear. He heard her take a deep breath, watched as she moved to take Veronica’s arm instead of her hand, never letting go of the fierce grip she had on his. 

“Alright, let’s go.” He pulled the girls into the reserved area, and wished he’d had his beanie on when all eyes turned to look at him. He slid into a seat next to Archie, who chided him about still having lipstick on his mouth. He reached for his napkin but paused when he saw a copy of the invitations sitting on his plate. Betty and Veronica had worked on designing them, and this was the first time he’d seen it. He felt his heart swell as he picked up the small piece of stock paper, reading it over in his head-

_Mr. and Mrs. Jughead Jones request the honor of your presence at the marriage of their daughter Abigail Elizabeth to Charles Frederick Andrews, Saturday the 12th of June Two Thousand and Twenty-One._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can not scream enough thanks to all of you who have given comments, kudos and reblogs, and talked me thru my insecurities! If you aren't already, make sure you check out my tumblr, I have a moodboard problem and created a new one just for the epilogue. 
> 
> I truly appreciate all of the love you have shown this story!
> 
> follow me on tumblr @theonlyemmaleigh

**Author's Note:**

> This is an older work I posted on ff.net, and I'm finally reposting it here. The major plot lines are still the same, only with added details and some missing plot holes.
> 
> follow me on tumblr @theonlyemmaleigh


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